Women's Work
by Ami Meitsu
Summary: During a strangely slow period at the precinct, something new comes up: A protection request from a witness dealing with his daughter. However, instead of falling on Sherlock, the case falls on Joan and Irene, because when it comes to undercover work, "Holmes would have a difficult time passing as a college sorority girl."
1. The Assignment

_**Chapter One**_

_**The Assignment **_

_**A/N: **__So, here's another story that I'm going to hell for. First off, I should explain the glaring plothole that I have: Irene Adler. In my __**Elementary**_ _universe, she was given an ultimatum. She could either be brought down or take a plea bargain and go free if she gave up her organisation. The catch? She was forced under house arrest under Sherlock and Watson and is available to the NYPD to solve any cases that arise, as she can get into the minds of criminals and see plots and loopholes the same way Sherlock can. And, a mind like that shouldn't be wasting away in prison. Besides, I had the thought that prison was beneath Moriarty anyway, and if she went and escaped, they would just be back where they started. It honestly makes more sense in my mind for them to find something to do with her. Note that it's not one of those cheesy turning over a new leaf stories, it's her being forced to work for the other side. Yes, it's unrealistic and makes little to no sense, but I loved her character am practically in love with Natalie Dormer and wanted her to be part of the story. Also, I should mention that I am NOT and I mean __**NOT**__ on everyone's Joanlock ship. So, if that's what you're looking for, you came to the wrong story. You're looking at a person who's eager to read some not-yet-existent Moriarty/Sherlock smut. _

_This story, by the way, probably borders on stupid and goofy, but I liked the idea, so I went ahead and acted on instinct. Hope everyone sees it for what it is, a fun little tale with a bit of a twist at the end._

* * *

To anyone else, it looked like a perfect day outside of one of New York City's many hotels. It was unusually warm for a September day and life bustled on as normal with people heading in and out of the lobby, commuters crowding the streets, some waiting for busses, others hailing cabs and some meeting dates. Though covered partially by a potted plant, the image of an older man meeting up with a rather beautiful, younger woman was clear and normal enough site in New York if you were anyone but Joan Watson, who was leaning on a nearby tree, pretending to be distracted by her phone.

"I told you they would be here," She said into the microphone hidden on her jacket.

"I would really like to know how you figured this," Sherlock replied over the line, watching via camera from an undercover, borrowed NYPD van.

"I'm not getting anything," Joan said as she snapped pictures, the camera around her neck being a loaner from Sherlock. "He's good…Checking his watch…" She observed. "Our ambassador is a rather busy man…They're going in. I'm following." After a quick glance around, she stepped out from behind her spot and easily slipped into the hotel, taking note of his steps and the lift he used as she headed for the stairwell, meeting the lift on the third floor and casually walking in, so not to arouse suspicion. Once they finally stopped, Joan made it a point to let the couple leave first and then followed, carefully watching while keeping a more than decent distance, stopping and peaking around a corner once they turned.

"They're in the north penthouse," She reported .

In the van, Sherlock quickly pulled out a blueprint of the building's top floor and analyzed the room layout. "You're going to have to go into 2206."

With a nod that he couldn't see, Joan headed down the hall, following the room numbers until she came to the door. Once there, she knocked and asked in an accent, "Would you like your room turned down? Shaloo…"

"What accent is that?" Sherlock asked, thinking it sounded like a cross between a beaten Indian woman and an American butchering a Scottish accent.

"I don't know," Joan admitted. "A Scottish mixed with broken Arabic?"

"Workshop that, Watson."

Ignoring him, she took note of the lack of response and deemed the room clear, easily picking the lock and heading for the balcony, breath hitching at the sight of the drop. "Vertigo moment…" She thought aloud.

"What are you doing, Watson? I've lost visual contact…what's happening?"

"Nothing," Joan lied as she climbed onto a potted plant, using the railing for leverage until she had to climb onto it, sucking in a breath and hoping that her balancing lessons from her martial arts lessons paid off.

"Please be careful," Sherlock insisted. "I have a will. I need to leave my nothing to someone."

At that, Joan stopped. "Wait, you put me in your will? Aw, Sherlock, you do care."

"_Focus_!" He snapped.

"I will not plunge to my death," She told herself, grabbing hold of the brick building and finally stepping on the rail, taking a moment to balance herself and assess the situation.

"Do. Not. Plunge. To your death."

'_Oh, you're helpful,' _She thought, taking in a breath as she finally leapt from the railing to the ledge around the corner, just grabbing the edge in time. Though thoroughly frightened, Joan managed to pull herself together long enough to struggle up the side of the building, digging her boots into the stone for balance as she did so and praying they didn't get completely ruined.

'_God,'_ She thought, letting out a sigh of relief when she finally pulled herself over and touched solid ground. However, she didn't stop for a moment, quickly and sneakily entering the penthouse via the balcony as soon as she was sure the area was clear, grateful that the room was carpeted, as the sound of the boots on anything but would have given her away. After a quick glance about the room, she followed the sounds of whispered giggles and sighs of ecstasy to the bedroom, and quietly knelt in the doorframe, camera in hand.

"_Hey_!" A voice snapped.

Joan quickly whipped her head around and found herself facing _another_ young woman, who screamed at her appearance. _'Shit!' _She thought, quickly grabbing her jacket and reporting, "It's actually a party of three."

"And what does that mean?" Sherlock asked.

"It was a ménage-a-gross," She explained as she threw open the door to the room and ran as fast as her feet would take her down the corridor, the ambassador she had been watching right on her heels, whip in hand.

"I could care less about what it was, just get out of there. I don't need this adding to my already questionable reputation."

"I'm in the northeast stairwell," She reported, ignoring Sherlock's commentary as she climbed the steps two at a time until she reached the only way out-the roof. "I'm on the roof. Tell me how to get out of here!" She demanded, turning down an alleyway, and finding a dead end. "_Shit_."

"Don't swear, Watson. I don't appreciate it when you swear."

"What are you, my father?" She snapped as the ambassador finally caught up with and cornered her.

"Well, well, Sweetie, here we are…" He said. Though he was trying to seem demanding, his intimidation factor was lowered by the fact that he wore only a white dressing gown.

"Don't call me that," Joan replied coolly while Sherlock badgered her with questions regarding her location.

"Get the pictures you needed?"

"I'm not the one cheating."

"No, you're just the one taking the dirty pictures of it. You're the lowest of the low, you know that? Worse than the paparazzi.

"That hurts."

"Hand over the camera," He demanded, saying it again with more force when she ignored him.

"Alright," Joan said, holding her hands up in false defeat, the idea being to make it look like she was scared and that he was winning as she carefully unhooked the strap from one side and slid it off her neck.

"That's it, nice and slow," He said, keeping a careful eye on her. "Now give it to me."

"You want it?" She taunted. "_Catch_!" She then made a move to throw it over the edge, recoiling it via the strap when he jumped, giving her the perfect opportunity to grab the sex toy/weapon from his hand.

"I am _not_ a paparazzi!" She snapped, thoroughly insulted as she threw it aside and responded to his jump at her with a punch to the jaw.

He stumbled back, not thinking before he made another clumsy move and earned a boot in the chest as Joan whipped around and kicked him to the ground. Not wasting a second as she turned back down the alleyway and raced back down the stairs, stopping two floors down and taking the lift to the ground, constantly looking back to make sure she wasn't being followed as she crossed the lobby and then the street, quickly locating and climbing into the van, pedal hitting the floor as soon as she had the chance.

* * *

The following day at The Brownstone, she analyzed the photos while Sherlock pondered over some recent data documents from their first new case in a few weeks. For whatever reason, it had been slow down at the precinct. Granted there were cases here and there, but nothing complex enough to warrant Holmes' assistance.

'_I can't believe I even got involved in this_,' Joan thought. The last thing she wanted to spend her time doing was chasing cheating ambassadors, but she had agreed anyway, because it was for a friend of her brother's. The woman had been a friend of his for years and thought she had gotten it all when she married the ambassador, however, her brother had revealed that he was notorious for his mistresses and, after talking to his lady friend and finding out he was in New York, he had contacted Joan and asked for the favour.

"Did you get anything good?" Sherlock asked, stepping up behind her moments later.

"It depends on how you define good, because it's certainly not good for our ambassador," She replied, sieving through the photos to choose the ones good enough to send off. "How is the case?"

"Rather dull. I solved it in less than an hour."

Joan simply nodded in response as she sealed a pre-addressed manila envelope and her mobile went off. "Gregson, has something come up?" She asked upon answering, her eyebrow raising as he talked and she then handed the phone over to Sherlock. "It's _you_ he wants to talk to. Says you're not answering your own phone."

Sherlock simply shrugged her off and grabbed the phone, turning back when the conversation finished. "We have an interesting case here, Watson." He said.

"What's so intriguing about this one?" She inquired.

"It involves Irene."

'_What did she do now?' _Joan thought with a sigh as Sherlock crossed the lounge and headed into Irene's room via the kitchen entrance.

Irene neither noticed his entrance nor cared, as she had settled down for a nap two hours prior, having had been up early for a modeling job. Boredom from the lack of juicy cases had led her, to think about pursuing other hobbies, and after some inquires with old connections, she managed to land a few freelance modeling jobs for local boutiques.

Without making a sound, Sherlock padded across the room to her nightstand, taking his hand to the lamp there and flicking it on and off until she finally roused and glared at him

"What the _hell_ Sherlock?!" She snapped.

"I just received a call from Gregson. We're all needed down at the station."

* * *

"What did you do _this time_?" Joan snapped at Irene as they all stepped out of a cab outside the station.

"Nothing…that I know of. Why must you think that I'm up to something?" Irene replied.

"Because you always are. There is no silencing your mind."

"We can have this fight later, Ladies," Sherlock said, clearly uninterested in listening to them fight, _again_.

Both women let out aggravated sighs as the walk continued. Eventually they stopped at Gregson's office, where Irene and Sherlock were the only ones allowed in.

"We're doing what we call a special investigation," Gregson started. "Miss Adler, have you heard of the Kastrov family?"

Irene turned the name over in her head, going through her internal listing of known crime organisations and families she had run into during her time as Moriarty. "The name is vaguely familiar, but I've had no dealings with them."

"They're a Mafia family in Manhattan that deal in fraud, drugs and extortion, led by Arman Kastrov."

"I'm not following. What does this have to do with me? I've had no dealings with them in the past nor do I plan them."

"The FBI is leveling an indictment against Kastrov. His chief witness is an accountant by the name of Carl Stratford. Stratford did the books for Kastrov without realising it, and we and the Federal Government are working to insure Stratford testifies against Kastrov."

"And I was woken up via a flashing light," Irene snapped.

"What?" Gregson asked.

"What is your point?" She said, feeling as if she was wasting time listening to something she had no involvement in.

"The point is that Stratford's daughter goes to college in Long Island and we've been commissioned to offer protection. As part of this deal, we would like you to keep an eye on her."

"Why would the NYPD be dealing with something in Long Island?"

"Because," Sherlock interrupted. "Not only was the crime committed in the city, but the family requested that I specially work on the case."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because Holmes would have a difficult time passing as a college sorority girl," Gregson replied.

"What about someone from the station?" Irene asked. Though the idea was interesting, she had no interest in hanging around with half-witted college sorority girls. She had been through school once and said she would never do it again; it had been dull, boring, and filled with girls who had nothing better to do with their time than date assholes and complain about the smallest, insignificant details from their lives. While they had been dressing up for dances, she had been making plans about how to get out and make something of herself.

"Have you seen the people that work at the station?" Gregson asked.

Irene said nothing, thinking he was right on that point until she caught the site of Joan conversing with a detective outside through the window. "Why can't Watson do it?" She asked.

At that, they all stopped and Sherlock stepped back a moment, running the thought through his head. He already knew that she was decent at investigating due to her training and with a little work, could easily look like she fit in at a sorority. However, he did not rule out the option of using Irene, thinking that more ground could be covered with two people. Without a second thought, he headed out and then brought Joan in.

She was given the same information as Irene and like her counterpart, rejected it. Both Sherlock and Gregson used more information to try and convince them, but after only a few minutes, both women simply got up and left.

"Hold _on_," Sherlock snapped once he stopped them. "Do either of you know what a heart hit is?"

"Of course," Irene scoffed. "It's an eastern European enforcement practice where a family will place someone into the life of a loved one of their enemy. They then use this person to get close to them, establish trust and then use this trust against them."

"And the threat of a heart hit alone is enough to prevent testimony?" Joan figured.

"Exactly. And, there's a hard hit on Stratford's daughter," Sherlock continued as he pulled a picture from the folder Gregson had provided. "Her name is Anna Stratford. We think she may be holding evidence for her father. Bank statements, accounting ledgers…some type of bargaining chip that we need to find and protect."

"_NO_," Irene snapped.

"Miss Adler," Gregson said as he entered the hall. "Part of your bargain was that you would help us whenever we needed without question. You don't have a choice."

"Can we at least have some time to think?" Joan asked.

"You have this evening. I need your answer by morning. Tomorrow is move-in day at the campus" Gregson said, hoping that Joan would make the right choice.

* * *

Though they normally didn't get along, Joan and Irene spent the night talking, contemplating their choices. Eventually they figured that it needed to be done, or at least, Joan did. She knew that the girl was innocent and accidentally dragged into it by a loyalty to her father and thought that she deserved to have some sort of security, even if she didn't know about it. Irene, on the other hand, took some convincing, as her life in the crime field left her with no issues regarding using innocents if you could gain something and she could easily see things from the Kastrov's point of view. After bantering back and forth for hours, they eventually came to an agreement and met with Gregson the following morning to give him an answer.

"We'll do it," Irene said.

"You will?" Gregson questioned.

Joan nodded.

"I figured, so I've been working out the details. Sherlock managed to get into the system and gained you both entrance to Anna's sorority. You're transfers from the University of Hawaii."

"Obscure school, far away, smart," Irene acknowledged.

"All for justice," Gregson said with a nod.

"Alright," Joan said. "We'll go to the college, maybe even throw on some extra lipstick…"

"Oh, you're going to do more a hell of a lot more than throw on some lipstick," Sherlock said, stepping out from his place behind Gregson.

Joan and Irene gave each other unsure looks. "What?" Irene asked.

"Come with me," Sherlock ordered.

After a few more glances, they followed and were led all the way to the ground floor to a training room near the back end of the station. Except, it looked more like a fashion show set up than a training room.

"What is this?" Joan asked.

"A simple working of connections," Sherlock said.

"Okay, you're like, an hour late," A woman said as she stepped out behind a clothing rack.

"Who's this?" Irene asked.

"I'm Busy," The woman replied.

"You're…busy?"

"No, Irene, Watson. Her name is Busy, she's a friend of a friend who works in fashion," Sherlock explained as Busy looked over both women.

"And what are these looks we're rocking?" She turned first to Irene. "Overpowering business woman and…Mom chic?"

"I don't get it," Joan said, confused as to exactly what she meant. She had never been big on fashion, always choosing comfort and slightly classy over unnecessary style.

Busy sighed. "Okay, you like, have to try on _all_ of these clothes. You," She pointed to Joan. "Over there, and you," She turned to Irene. "Over there."

"Fine," Joan sighed.

"No, Watson. You say "totally" or its shorter cousin "toats" when you want to say 'fine,'" Busy said.

"She's also an expert on common college-girl vernacular," Sherlock said.

The women simply rolled their eyes at him and headed off in their designated directions, Joan choosing to start with a casual, strapless, dark-purple ensemble while Irene was forced into a halter-top and skinny jeans.

"Accessory time!" Busy said to both of them as they stepped out. "Here we have Marc Jacobs Aussie tote in pearl and navy," She explained as she set two identical handbags on a table in front of her and began going through a list of accessories that included makeup, gum, extra jewellery, hairstyling tools and condoms.

"Yeah, we won't be needing those," Joan said to the last part, noting how she was ignored before she and Irene were being pushed into styling chairs in front of a large mirror and a middle-aged, portly man with spiked black hair was led in.

"Watson, Irene, this is Sergei, he's like, thebombdotcom when it comes to hair," Busy said as she led him over.

"It's _Joan_," Joan insisted.

"Whatevs…" Busy shrugged her off as Sergei looked over both women and their hairstyles, carefully running his hands trough it as he made quick conversation with Busy.

"They blindfolded me when they drove me here."

Irene and Joan both raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm sorry. That was toats inapropes," Busy replied sympathetically.

"No. I liked it…It reminded me of my last Craig's list experience."

"_What_?" Irene asked, thinking _'Who is this freak touching my head?' _

"Amazeballs," Busy exclaimed at Sergei's statement and coolness about it.

"A-what balls?" Joan asked as they turned back to her hair.

Sergei started with Irene, saying, "She has waves here and then these curls at the end. There's just too much going on…It's like overpowering businesswoman trying to be casual and this one…" He said, picking at Joan's black locks that simply hung down her shoulders.

"I cut my hair myself," Joan admitted.

"In what, an Earthquake?" Sergei asked as he _and_ Busy continued to pick at her head, his expression becoming more disgusted. "It's like a sad animal attempted suicide on her head," He concluded.

"You do realise I'm sitting right here," She said, again noting how she was ignored as Sergei went to work, stopping briefly to let Irene's highlights set as he worked curlers into Joan's hair, and Sherlock headed over with a board similar to the one back at The Brownstone. On it were faces and names neither woman recognized along with data and sorority crests.

"This is the Kappa Kappa Zeta pecking order. You need to know this to fit into the house." He explained. "At the top is Sarah Stalone. She is ruthless and power hungry and runs the house with an iron fist-ish. She's like Kaddafi with highlights."

"I like this girl already," Irene said, earning a look from Joan.

"If binging and purging were a crime, she'd be on death row. Do you get what I'm saying?" Sherlock continued, ignoring Irene's commentary.

"Not really," Joan shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. Now, these are her top three lieutenants, Jessica, Sandra and Martha."

"Jessica, Sandra, Martha," Irene and Joan noted at the same time.

"This is your target, right here, Anna Stratford. You will be her best friends."

Both women nodded and listened on until they were turned around and having their hair fussed with again, soon being allowed to get up as Sherlock led them across the room. "Here are your mobiles," He said, handing over two iPhones, Irene's covered with sparking purple jewels and Joan's, pink.

"What did you do? Mug some middle schoolers?" Irene asked.

"No. You're actually going to use these. They've been modified to include a built-in Kappa App with information regarding all of your sorority sisters."

"Kappa App?" Irene scoffed as he handed over two other mobiles, both black flip phones.

"And these, you will not use but keep on you and on at all times."

"Why?" Joan asked.

"It's how I will contact you. You'll get a text whenever something comes up."

"And what if we need to call you?" Irene inquired.

"You'll get a text."

"Wait, so if we need to call you, we'll get texts."

"Yes."

"How is that logical?" Joan asked, soon switching subjects as she looked at both mobiles, "Kappa phone, Bat Phone" She decided.

"Please, don't call it a bat phone," Sherlock insisted.

"Why not?"

"It demeans the meaning of the phone."

"I'm sorry, but I'm calling it a Bat Phone."

"No, listen. In the story, the Bat Phone was a red landline used to only make calls. You are using these to receive texts it just…I don't see a point. Alright?"

"Alright…" Joan agreed, glancing at Irene as he walked away.

"Bat Phone," They said together before heading through a nearby door to the car park.

"And this, Watson," Sherlock said as he pulled the cover off of a black Cadillac. "Is your brand new Cadillac CTS."

"Why can't we just take her car?" Irene asked, thinking to be more practical.

"First off, no, it would be too obvious. Secondly, I hope you know that most women would feel a need to jump up and down at the simple thought of driving one of these things."

"We're not most women," She insisted.

"I noticed. But, Natasha Bedford and Whitney Anderson are," He said, handing them each a document.

"Who are they?" Joan asked.

"You."

"Are you serious? Those aren't names, they're Barbie dolls," Irene snapped.

"No one cares," Sherlock said, handing over the keys to Joan as they headed back inside to finish off the makeovers.

After two hours of contemplating hair styles and makeup, and trying and re-trying clothes, both women were finally deemed ready and revealed to both the stylists and Sherlock, Irene in a black-and-white colourblock dress and matching sandals and Joan in a grey, one-shoulder t-shirt embellished with a pink heart and the word "Love," in which the sleeve hung of the right arm and was held up on the left with a thin, tank-strap, the shirt itself being It was matched with a simple, too-short-for-Joan's-Taste denim skirt and knee-high black boots. Her hair had been given both volume and a slight curl at the bottom, and no longer simply hung about her face, but floated down to her shoulders. Irene's hair, on the contrary, had been toned down and straightened so it simply hung down. Slight touches of makeup complimented the outfits that, when looked at as a whole would fool anyone into thinking they truly belonged in a sorority, as they were done up to look younger and more vibrant, the looks earning a gasp from Sergei and a raised eyebrow from Sherlock.

"Holy _shit_," Joan said as she stepped out from behind the dressing curtain and in front of a large, three-part mirror first.

"Oh. My. God," Busy said.

"Holy _SHIT_," Irene repeated after catching a glance at them both.

"Oh. My. God. Try it."

"Try what?" Joan asked.

"You say 'Oh my god' when you want to say, 'holy shit'" Busy explained.

"Oh my god?" Joan said weakly.

"Oh. My. God," Busy said, stretching out each word slightly as an example.

"Oh. My God," Irene said in her American accent, the statement near-perfect.

"Oh. My. God." Busy repeated.

Joan thought for a minute and tried one more time, mainly to get them off of her case. "Oh. My. God."

Busy smiled at them both and, as if on cue, all three woman let out a simultaneous "Oh. My. God."

"It's a fashion miracle…" Sergei claimed as Sherlock stood up and stepped in between the women, glancing at them both, truly shocked at their new looks.

"OH. MY. GOD." He said.

"Somebody wanted to say, 'Holy shit,'" Joan observed.

Sherlock simply walked off with another raised eyebrow and the women followed, assisting him and Busy in preparing and packing several luggage cases with both clothes and equipment that would carry them through their time at the school. Soon, Gregson appeared to assist Holmes in loading the car and to hand over a series of identification documents to the women.

"Social Security cards, passports, library cards, student ID and Driver's license," He listed, handing over the last one only to Joan.

"With that done, I believe you're all set now," Sherlock decided, quickly pushing them out of the room and then leading them through the longest possible way to the front entrance. Along the way, nearly every man stopped. Those at their desk stood, and those walking either froze or quickly made use of their mobile cameras.

Irene simply ignored them, while Joan scowled, knowing Sherlock was taking the long way on purpose. After spending hours getting a makeover she never asked for, the last thing she wanted was for the whole precinct to not only know, but to stare her down and analyze her like a five-course meal. She was grateful when they finally reached the door, until she turned to find half of the staff standing on the steps.

"Have fun," Sherlock said.

'_Don't count on it…' _Joan thought as Bell came around the corner with the Cadillac, giving him a nasty glare when he tried to speak. She simply moved past him, slammed the door and headed off with Irene by her side as the navigator.

Along the way, she found the car to be a pretty easy ride, especially with the top down, as Irene had figured out that they had been given a convertible. Throughout the hour-long ride, both ladies took time to glance at their surroundings as the tall building and lights of New York City gave way to a less-crowded, slightly rural area that soon turned into a sprawling college campus.

'_This is…interesting…'_ Irene noted as she glanced about at the student body which held everyone from just-out-of-high school preps, to adults heading back to school for one reason or another, and, of course, everything in between.

Joan sighed when they finally stopped outside of the sorority house, taking in a breath as soon as the car settled. "Alright…" She said, glancing up in her rearview mirror. "Whitney Anderson…" She thought aloud, changing her voice to higher-pitched, less serious tone. "Hi. I'm Whitney, nice to meet 'ya."

Irene raised an eyebrow and they exchanged a slightly disgusted expression.

"You try," Joan insisted.

"Alright…" Irene said, quickly turning to a higher-pitched American accent. "I'm Natasha and I'm like, so psyched to be here…Ugh."

"See? It's neither easy nor appealing."

Irene said nothing as they finally stepped out of the car, and retrieved their luggage, each hauling two cases.

After another glance they headed up the stairs of the vast house, exchanging a look at the site of a few of the girls, clad in pink Kappa Kappa Zeta T-shirts, giggling their way down the steps. Once at the door, they were stopped from going in by two people rushing out of it.

"I cannot believe you're canceling!" A man snapped.

"Harrison, it's Kappa Welcome Back Night, I have to be there," A tall, blonde girl said in a light southern drawl.

"You're choosing your sorority sisters over _my father_? Jessica, listen to me, I'm late as it is, I still have to shave my chest and meditate before I meet my parents so just…meet us at the horse show, " Harrison snapped in a disgusted tone.

"Harrison, I told you, _I can't_."

"Jessica, sometimes you can be such an insipid idiot."

"Harrison, I don't know what that word means."

"What kind of idiot doesn't know what the word 'idiot' means?" Harrison snapped.

"Not that one, the other one," Jessica clarified.

"Insipid. Devoid of character."

"I _have _character, Harrison! Last year for Halloween I was a raspberry."

"Just, _shut up_."

"Alright, easy there," Joan said as she stepped up, not wanting to listen to another word. There was no reason anyone should be verbally abused in such a manner, especially when they had done nothing more than cancel an outing.

"Do you have a problem?" Harrison asked.

"Yes I do, _you_. I think you could be a little more patient."

"Oh, really?" He said, eyeing her with intimidation.

Joan met his stare with equal force as her hand tensed. She was completely ready to chop him upside the head when she remembered where she was and who she was supposed to be, so, instead of giving him the hit he rightly deserved, she took in a breath and settled, ending with a sweet smile and a tilt of her head in an attempt to play the innocent.

Harrison gave her a satisfied look and turned back to Jessica. "Don't be late." He snapped.

"Hope that wasn't a first date," Joan said to her. "I'm Whitney."

"I don't care _who_ you are," Jessica snapped. "That is Harrison Stewart, he is the president of Omega Alpha Paton and the son of senator Stewart."

"I'm sorry, I just thought…"

"You are _so _insipid. Who the hell are you?" Jessica said, heading down the steps with a flip of her hair.

Joan simply stood, watching her a moment before turning to Irene.

"We're really going to love it here," Irene concluded.


	2. Welcome to KKZ

_**Chapter Two**_

_**Welcome to KKZ**_

_**A/N: **Thank you to all of my readers, even if you're a quiet bunch. (200+ views and one review?) Now, I know this chapter is short, but it's a filler chapter intended to introduce you to the Kappa House and the people Irene and Joan will be dealing with throughout the course of the assignment. So...Enjoy?_

* * *

Once inside, both women took a moment to overlook their surroundings. The ground floor gave off the appearance of any other home, with carpets, clocks and tables lining the walls. To the right was a dining area, and to the left some unidentified room that could pass as a decent lounge. The décor gave off a girlie-yet-elegant vibe and was done in a tasteful way, like something one would find in their grandmother's house, but with more of a modern edge. They stepped forward, intending to explore the hall, but were stopped by two of the girls rushing to their sides.

"Hi! Welcome! What are your names?" One said as she grabbed Irene, the other holding onto Joan.

"I'm Natasha…" Irene replied as they were quickly dragged off, their luggage being left behind.

"Whitney," Joan said, barely getting it out before being overpowered by an aisle of singing, clapping Kappas.

"_Oh when you pledge. To KKZ , you'll want to be one of our sisters. When you pledge to KKZ. We're full of poise. We've got your back. We're all graceful, lovely girls. You'll want to be one of our sisters. When you pledge to KKZ. Whoo!" _

They walked the aisle with trepidation, both unsure of what to think about what was happening.

'_What is going on here?' _Irene thought, exchanging a look with Joan as they both put on awkward smiles until the singing stopped.

'_I'm not quite sure what a pledge is…but I don't think that's us…We're transfers.' _Joan thought, saying once they finished, "We're not pledges. We're transfers."

She was met with a chorus of disappointed "oh"s as she and Irene slowly slunk away, hearing them welcome an actual pledge as they stepped back into the hall, grabbing their luggage along the way and heading for the stairs, stopping at the sight of the head of the house, Sarah, floating down.

'_That picture did her no justice…'_ Irene thought with an air of disgust. While the picture had been pretty, it hid all of the fakeness that she was feeling emanating from this girl. Everything from her clearly bleached hair to her makeup just screamed "trying too hard."

"Hello beautiful, Vibrant Kappa sisters," Sarah greeted.

"Hi, I'm Natasha and this is Whitney," Irene replied, holding out her hand and then putting it down when she noticed the look she was given. "What?" She asked.

"You're supposed to greet me back," Sarah explained.  
"I _did_," Irene insisted.  
"No, the way I greeted you."

"Oh. Well…Of course. Hello beautiful, vibrant Kappa sister."

"No. Those are my words. You have to use your own words."

Both women turned over the words in their head, taking a minute to conjure up some sort of greeting for her.

"Oh…Um…Hello intelligent, elegant Kappa sister," Joan said.

"Hello," Sarah replied sweetly, turning her gaze to Irene.

"Hello sweet…and…freshly manicured, evenly spray-tanned Kappa sister," Irene said after a quick glance at her features and using both her sense of deduction and lying skills to come up with something remotely decent.

"Hi. I'm Sarah, president of Kappa Kappa Zeta and you're Natasha Bedford and Whitney Anderson, our transfers from Hawaii."

"And you're…really well informed," Joan noted as Sarah hugged first her and then Irene.

"I note that you've seen the chapter room, which boys are _never_ allowed in."

"We weren't planning on it."

"Just saying. Let me show you upstairs. Come on," Sarah ordered lightly, turning back up the steps with a graceful turn.

"You know, you seem more mature than the other girls," Joan said, having noticed how she greeted them eloquently and though fake, had an older, more structured aura about her. She wasn't as eager or bubbly, and wasn't singing, much to her relief.

"That's because I'm older. I modeled in Croatia for three years before coming here."

"Croatia?" Irene asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," Sarah said with a nod. "People always think of Milan when it comes to high fashion, but Croatia is the new golden age of couture. It's like Paris in 1947," She said.

"Is it?" Irene said, not missing the way Sarah had cut her eyes and gave a slight touch to her lip as she spoke. Then, before any of them could speak again, she stopped at the sight of a slender, dark brunette approaching from the opposite side of the hallway. Thinking quickly about her appearance and the picture, she nudged Joan, who looked the same way.

"Oh my god!" She said with a slight nod, "Under stars of the blue southern sky, where girls become women, they bake apple pie," She sang.

"There's fish and there's trees, there's tents and there's cheese," Irene continued, pleased when they got a response out of Anna, who nodded her head in remembrance of the beat as she made a path towards them.

"Wakka-Wakka hey, Wakka-Wakka who, Wakka-Wakka me, Wakka-Wakka you," They sang together.

"You guys went to camp Wakka-Wakka?" Anna asked.

"You don't remember us?" Joan asked.

"I'm sorry, it's been so long, I…"

"I'm Whitney. Anderson, And this is Natasha. We were in cabin nine, and always together."

"We were sort of…left to our own devices," Irene said. "Found common ground by eating bugs."

"Oh…Okay," Anna said. "Can you believe what happened to Shelly Simon?"

"I know, it's fantastic," Irene replied, hoping it was something good, as she had no idea who that was or what had happened.

"She lost her arm."

"Oh…Well…She's doing well with the other one. She's just…so strong. You know, even though we're together," She said, gesturing towards Joan."I was nervous about transferring here…I am so psyched to have another friend! Isn't it great, Whitney?"

"Totally," Joan agreed.

"Right…" Anna muttered, fiddling with the heart-shaped pendant around her neck as she spoke.

"Oh, well…I just love reunions!" Sarah said in an attempt to break the awkward silence as she gestured them with her hand, leading them to a pre-furnished room at the end of the hall. "And this is your room. Your neighbour, Maria is _so_ great. You'll love her. She's _so_ great, and she's real, which is _so_ important because there are so many fake girls in this house." She whispered the last sentence, leaving them with a blown kiss and a flit of her wrist.

Joan and Irene exchanged a look and quickly chose their respective beds, hauling and opening up their luggage cases on them. Joan started with the clothes while Irene popped open the equipment case, which contained not only surveillance cameras, but tools such as handcuffs, mace, pistols and extra ID cards. As she was sieving through it a knock came at the door and she quickly slammed it shut as Joan called out a welcome.

"Hey all!" Said a petite, Latina girl. She couldn't have been more than 5'2, and had a natural, golden skin tone that complimented her dark hair and big eyes. She seemed like another cherry, bubbly Kappa girl by her voice, but her punk-rocker clothes didn't match at all, and, neither did the voice both women found out as she dropped it to introduce herself.

"How was that?" She asked. "I've been working that greeting since last year…Maria Cruz, I live next to you."

"Natasha Bedford," Irene said, extending a hand.

"Whitney Anderson," Joan replied, repeating Irene's movement.

"I see you've met Sarah…You do realise that she's really like that and that's un-medicated, right?" Maria said. "Did she drop the modeling thing?"

"Oh, yeah. Croatia, it's like Paris in 1947," Irene replied, getting an eye roll in response.

"I know what you're thinking," Maria continued as she noticed Joan eyeballing her. "My mother was a Kappa, which makes me a legacy, so they _have_ to let me in. You?"

"Oh, the NYPD arranged it," Joan replied, ignoring Irene's headshake.

"You're funny. Anyway, I live in the room to your left. If you need anything, I'll be glad to help. See you tonight." At that, Maria left, closing the door behind her.

"You're lucky she bought that," Irene snapped before going about her business. After an hour of unpacking and organising, they went about the house with small teddy-bears that served as spy cameras, placing them about the halls and the chapter room to ensure everything was covered, lying that they were just a welcoming gift when asked. Afterwards, they opted to walk together in an attempt to navigate the campus more easily. During their walk, they made small talk with a couple of students regarding questions about campus life and their classes, hoping to use that information to make their cover more effective. Along the way, they also ran into some women from a rival sorority, who simply looked at them disgustedly, before Joan turned her attention away from them to a man with an crime-scene layout in front of him. She headed over and glanced over his shoulder without him noticing, shaking her head at the notes he made.

"Can I help you?" He asked when he finally looked up.

"Oh, sorry. I was just…You're wrong," She replied bluntly.

"What?"

"Here, let me show you." At that, Joan set her handbag down and went about explaining the basic details of the scene, soon delving into more complicated territory regarding the tiny details based on the picture and the notes that accompanied them when she saw by the look on his face that he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Wow…" He said once she finished. "Now, I have another question for you, what if you've done everything here and it still doesn't work out?"

"You just have to deal," Joan replied. "Sometimes you will have cases that will lead to dead ends, but it's far from the end of the world. Granted, all investigators want to bring justice, but unfortunately, it sometimes happens later than sooner. It's something you learn to live with in the crime field.

"Oh, well…Richard," He said, holding his hand out.

"Whitney."

"You…don't go to school here, do you?" He asked.

At that, Joan panicked. "Why would you say that? Why would you think that?" She asked suddenly. "I'm in my early twenties. I'm walking around on campus. I have a pretentious name and a sparkly cell phone."

Richard laughed. "I'm not sure. It's just that…not many girls here would know the first thing about deducing a crime scene, in fact they'd probably faint at the mere mention of it."

"Really? Oh, well…I guess I just love detective work so much, I want to throw up," She said, reverting back to her sorority girl voice. "I have to…go…"

"I love it so much I want to throw up?" Irene mocked as Joan joined her.

"I panicked," Joan admitted as they walked off.

"Obviously."

After another circle about the campus, they headed back to the house for supper and later found themselves in a bathroom with twenty other women trying to prepare for the night's welcome back ceremony. The place was rife with bright lights and mirrors, and the stench of acetone mixed with powered makeup and lip gloss. While everyone buzzed about getting ready, Joan and Irene divided their time between that and playing with their Kappa phones, taking note of the girls around them and trying to remember names and faces as they started up a wishing game.

"More than anything in the whole world?" Said a young, pretty African-American lady with unnaturally straightened, shoulder-length hair in a matching, red bralette and pants set whom Irene identified as Sandra. "That's easy. A tall husband who makes a lot of money, but who is properly God-fearing and loves children. Oh, and a pearl-white Bentley Continental GT with a pink Jesus fish on the back bumper."

"Nice," Replied one of the many, long-haired brunettes, this one covering herself with a lavender chemise over a white lingerie set adorned with pink lace, that Joan marked as Martha.

"Your turn, Martha," Sandra said.

"Okay…I want to live in Beverly Hills and be on TV. But, not on one of those crappy reality shows, on a high-quality one."

'_Is there such a thing?' _Irene thought as she adjusted her strapless, black and violet lace, pushup bra that matched her minimal, bikini pant.

"…So I can have a billion Twitter followers and a mansion with a pool. Oh, and I def want a pearl white Bentley too."

"Wait, what are you names again?" Jessica asked, pulling up her blonde curls as she turned to Irene and Joan.

"Whitney."

"Natasha."

"Okay, Whitney, your turn," Martha said.

"What I want?" Joan asked.

"More than anything in the whole world," Jessica explained.

'_Hmm…' _Joan thought as she leant back on the vanity behind her, feeling slightly uncomfortable with all their eyes on her in nothing but her underwear-a dark navy bra adorned with black lace and matching cheekini. "Alright. I'd love to live in New York, just outside the city. I've always had this image of a large, blue, Victorian style house with a large bay window in the den, a place to sit and read when it's nice and sunny…And, let's not forget the garden. One blooming with roses and lilies in white and blue. I would say I want a Bentley, but I'm more partial to black Cadillacs myself."

"Natasha?" She said, turning to Irene.

"Hm…? Oh. I want to live in London in a gorgeous, loft-style flat with a spiral staircase and plenty of open space for painting. The walls would be filled with masterpieces, most of them resorted by me. There would be paint splatters on the floor, not a lot, but just enough to make it look used and lived in, like something amazing is being created there. And, I'd have a temperature controlled storage room for the pigments, everything from the simplest acrylics to the more rare colours like gamboge. But, nothing original, there's nothing I could add to the masters…nothing anyone could, really. And my bedroom would just be awash in blue and white silk, something elegant but not too overpowering, with a walk-in closet that hides the safe and my preferred protection instrument."

As soon as she finished, everyone stopped and looked at her, utterly confused as to half of what she just said. Someone who didn't want a big house with a garden and money was just strange…especially when that someone rattled off art information that none of them understood for their lives.

Irene caught their looks and stopped a moment, knowing she had done something wrong. Telling the truth made it so she didn't fit in. She quickly thought over their answers, wishes and personalities in her head and nervously added, "And a pearl white Bentley."

To her relief, everyone simply laughed her off and went about their business.

"Hey, where's my Eyeliscious moisturizer?" Sandra asked the crowd. "I think somebody stole it."

"Girl, welcome to the club," Martha replied. "Someone stole my neck massager."

"Wait…I think somebody stole my lip-gloss," Jessica interrupted, oblivious to the fact that she was holding it.

"Darling, it's in your hand," Martha pointed out, before they all laughed again.

Irene simply shrugged as she turned back to the mirror soon being approached by Anna, who was covered with her pink, KKZ shirt and a pair of black-and-white polka dotted boy shorts.

"A lot nicer than the Camp Wakka-Wakka bathrooms, huh?" She asked as she ran a brush through her hair.

"That's a beautiful pendant," She complimented upon getting a closer look at the heart around Anna's neck.

"Oh…Thanks, it was…a gift," Anna replied, quickly tucking it under her shirt and rousing suspicion in Irene, who had noticed that not only was the girl constantly nervous around her, but appeared very protective when it came to the pendant itself.

Joan, meanwhile, glanced about the bathroom, taking notice of how focused the girls were on their appearances. They fiddled with all kinds of makeup, checking and double checking to make sure it and their hair was perfect, like it was the only thing that mattered. "Why is this so important to all of them?" She thought aloud.

"Because this is their world," Anna replied. "And it used to be mine…" She muttered.

"What?"

"I apologize. I'm being totally cynical. I'm sure you guys just adore the pageantry. Little do they know that the real world comes for us all at some point."

'_She's obviously hiding something…and not very well…' _Irene thought as, behind her, Jessica tripped into Joan, who in turn ran into her, sending her and the nail vial she was holding, foreword and leaving a nice stain on Anna's shirt.

"Oh my god. I am _so_ sorry, Anna," Irene quickly apologized.

"What did you do?" Anna said, a sob in her voice. "My shirt is ruined! This was my special Kappa Kappa Zeta T-shirt and you ruined it."

Irene and Joan simply stood, unsure of what to say and thinking that the incident was far from the perfect way to get close to her, until she titled her head and flipped her hair.

"Like, OMG, I'm messing with you," She joked lightly as she headed out amongst her sisters' laughter.

"Are you making fun of me?!" Martha snapped.

"I am," Anna admitted once she hit the doorframe.

After another hour of primping and prepping, Irene and Joan returned to their room to change into their designated, white dresses. Iren's being a floor-length strapless piece with a long slit on the left side the reached past her knees and a green, sideways, hanging sash for contrast that she added to make the dress appear more vibrant. Joan's, on the other hand, hung off of her left shoulder and was covered with a sheer, white layer that left a small train the back. And, instead of falling to the floor, the dress split into a v-shaped line, the middle meeting near her knees while the rest hung far past them. Both had complimented the outfits with white, strappy sandals and the appropriate makeup for the occasion and their colouring. As for hair, Irene had pinned part of hers back with a white bow, leaving the rest of it hang down her shoulders while Joan had simply pulled most of hers into a high ponytail, leaving only a bit of fringe to hang down and frame her face.

"Let's see if we're online," Joan suggested, getting a nod from Irene as the other woman pulled and set out a laptop on their shared desk, where she sat while Joan looked over her shoulder. To the ordinary eye, it seemed normal, running all of the programs of traditional computer with one exception, the security camera linkup. After a quick clicking of icons, Irene brought up four-part screen that showed where the bears were. Through the screens, they had a clear view of the main hall, the door, Anna's room and the chapter room, which they considered the most necessary parts of the house to watch. After noting that all of the cameras worked and that the girls could be seen clearly they glanced at the clock, noting their tardiness as they both stood, stopping when they glanced at themselves in the mirror, looking young, vibrant and, while beautiful, completely out of character.

"At least it's convincing," Joan concluded, catching Irene's disgusted scoff.

"I know. We are like, _soo_ undercover," She replied in a mocking voice before giving another scoff and following Joan out the door and downstairs to the chapter room, which was thoroughly crowded. Everywhere they turned, women stood, talking about everything from trips to Europe to fashion tips. They navigated the room with skill and trepidation, both internally struggling to find a place to fit.

"Here," Sandra said, interrupting their thoughts as she handed over two candles with the KKZ crest.

"Thanks," Irene muttered for both of them as they continued on, wondering if they would ever be able to keep up with this crowd and complete their assignment.

After a half hour of wandering about, Sarah appeared and quickly organized everyone. Soon, the room was dark and quiet, the only light being provided by the candles that had been carefully lit.

"Sisters, welcome back and welcome home," Sarah said, standing in the middle with Jessica and Martha flanking her. "It was a summer of change. A summer of big developments and a summer of making new friends. We have a year of great excitement ahead of us, including winning back the La Fete cup back from those easy, Alpha girls."

She was interrupted by a chorus of cheers, but easily continued on once they stopped. "But, to do that, we need to sell more Teddy bears than any of the other houses. Kappas, are you up for that?" She asked, pausing for more cheers. "Alright, let the festivities begin."

At that, all got soft and quiet as they began to sing their Alma Matter, everything seeming normal until Joan caught the site of the shadow of a gun near Anna, who was positioned by the window. Thinking quickly, she threw down the candle and went for her.

"Watch out!" She ordered as she knocked her to the ground and held her. "Stay down!"

"What?" Anna asked as she hit the ground, taking the drapes with her.

"Stay _down_," Joan repeated as Irene swept the room with her eyes, hands reaching for the concealed pistol hidden in her sash, stopping and relaxing when she saw that it wasn't a criminal, but a group of frat boys with a camera, who shot them the finger along with a few expletives as they ran off.

"Oh. It's just those Godless OAP boys," Sandra remarked as everyone calmed and Joan stood back up, pulling Anna with her.

'_Really?' _Irene thought.

"They're always trying to catch us exercising topless or something," Sandra explained.

"They totally caught me once," Martha said casually, quickly adding, "I was _so mad_" at the sight of everyone's disgusted looks.

"Hey look…a pretty little fire," Jessica said as everyone turned and finally noticed the small flame in the corner that had been caused by Joan setting down the candle unsteadily, not paying attention as it slipped and caught the other set of drapes. No one panicked at first, simply observing for a moment until the flame exploded and shot up the length of the curtain, eliciting a series of panicked screams as the sprinklers above them went off and everyone rushed to cover themselves, their outfits and hair turning into hot messes, all but Maria.

"What? Have you never had a shower before?" She snapped, while, next to her, Irene shoved another girl out of her face.

Eventually, they garnered enough sense to head outside, and stood dripping wet while the fire department checked the sprinklers and conducted an investigation.

"I can't believe you did that," Irene snapped to Joan.

"I'm sorry that I reacted to potential danger," Joan snapped back as she turned away and was stopped in her tracks by Jessica.

"You may as well have turned to this date on my calendar and painted it black," She hissed.

Joan raised an eyebrow. "Wow…That was morbidly poetic…Anyway, I really am sorry, it was just an accident, I…"

"No," Jessica interrupted. "An accident is like when you're driving down the road and you hit a raccoon, but you don't want to stop even if turns out to be someone's dog. _This_ is a tragedy!"

Joan simply stepped back, both humiliated and just a tad frightened due to the looks everyone was giving her. They regarded her as if she was nothing more than a piece of rubbish, all glancing at her disgustedly as they filed back into the house on Sarah and the fire chief's orders.

'_Well…this is going just great…' _She thought. _'First day here and I've made no connections with the mark, oh, and the whole house hates me. Clearly I was suited for this job.' _


	3. Investigations and Infatuations

_**Chapter Three**_

_**Investigations and Infatuations **_

_**A/N: **__So, I ended up re-titling the story…The first was only temporary anyway, and I think this one fits better. Anyway, here's another chapter. _

_Also, I know I took this first part directly out of the finale…but I thought it was good and have no knowledge whatsoever on any kind of art or its history._

* * *

The following morning marked their first day of class. Sherlock had arranged for them to share an almost identical schedule with each other and Anna, making certain changes based up the majors he had signed them up for. After searching through their provided clothes for an hour and finding nothing they liked, both women simply settled. Irene going for a white camisole covered with a navy sweater and matched with a black skirt and Joan settling on a simple, jeans and button-blouse ensemble. Finding the outfits suitable, they headed out, stopping along their walk to their first class at the sight of Richard conversing with Anna. They appeared to be close, leaving not much space between them as they spoke, rousing suspicion in both women, who exchanged a look before heading off to an art history class.

"These original Turners only surfaced recently," The professor explained as he circled two canvases. "This one in particular is a study for the Fighting Temeraire from 1839."

"No it's not," Irene muttered, having remembered seeing the same canvases two years prior in Scotland Yard.

"Excuse me?" The professor asked.

"I'm sorry, but those canvases aren't original Turners," She said as she stood, earning curious looks from her classmates as she stepped down to the floor.

"And you're certain?" The professor questioned.

"I wouldn't have spoken up if I wasn't," Irene said as she stepped in front of the canvas. "If you look here, you can see this burnt orange and ochre. However, one needed turmeric to make ochre paint in 1839. But, that time was also the start of the British-Afghan war, in which turmeric was commandeered by the army to be used as a preservative in rations. Because of that, you don't see ochre in the Fighting Temeraire…or any painting back then, which is quite a shame, really. The world would be far more interesting with a few new Turners, don't you think?"

"I do, actually, what's your name?" He asked.

"Natasha," Irene answered nervously, suddenly realising that the information she presented could be a blow to her cover.  
"Well, Natasha, how would someone like you know this?"

"Oh, I don't know. I just love art…I think it's…amazeballs," She said with a sweet smile, earning laughs from her classmates as she headed back to her seat.

"Now who's messing up?" Joan teased, earning a punch to the arm. "Ow."

Irene simply flipped her hair and ignored her, staying quiet for the remainder of the lecture, which, luckily, stayed error-free. Afterwards she headed out with Richard and Anna, Richard saying, "Interesting look at those paintings."

"Oh, I don't know what I'm talking about," Irene lied as Anna waved to an old friend, who ignored her and kept on walking with the older man next to her.

"Hm…That was rude. She was my freshman roommate last year. I haven't seen her since then." Anna thought aloud.

"She's probably trying to keep it low," Irene concluded.

"Keep what low?"

"Her affair with that 'good doctor,'" She said as if it was the most obvious think in the world. "She was probably in one of his lectures and now they're heading off to have some scandalous motel room sex."

"Okay, how would you know that?" Richard asked, as Irene glanced at Joan, both of them rolling their eyes.

"The parking pass on his car is preferential, for doctors," Joan explained. "He's not wearing a wedding ring, but the tan line is there. So, we know she knows he's married, but that's not why he doesn't wear it, it's just a guilt thing that cheating men do."

"Wow, all I saw was Olivia and some guy. I'm impressed," Richard said. "You guys have an interesting sense of deduction."

"All part of the job," Joan replied casually.

"What?"

"I don't know. I should probably not talk anymore…Alright, Natasha and I are going to go…study…now," She said, quickly grabbing Irene's arm and dragging her down the path, their destinations being separate this time, Irene was off to a painting workshop while Joan headed for something she couldn't remember. They ended up not meeting again until later that night when Irene settled in front of the laptop in a relaxing, shorts and t-shirt ensemble, while Joan hovered over one of her assignments, soon letting out a frustrated sigh.

"What?" Irene asked.

"Today I found out that Sherlock made me a finance major. He couldn't just let me be like everyone else in the house and set me up to marry one…" Joan grumbled.

"What's with all the books?"

"Not books, ledgers. Big, fat accounting ledgers."

"They have computers for that, Watson," Irene pointed out.

"The sadist professor is making us do it by hand, so we actually learn something."

"Where's she going?" Irene muttered after glancing at the computer screen, zooming in on the one in the hall near Anna's room and watching as she left, looking both frightened and suspicious.

"What?" Joan asked as she headed over.

"She's just, leaving. Kind of suspicious considering the hour, don't you think?"

"On the other hand, it does give us a chance to get into her room and search for anything that could help our case. I'll go check it out."

"Why? Do you think I'm incapable of doing so?"

"No. I just need a break from numbers," Joan replied, popping open and slipping out of the window before anything more could be said. The window led to a balcony that wrapped around the floor, that would have provided a lovely walk, however she knew that the room she was looking for was around the corner and wasted no time in locating it, and picking the lock with one of the pins holding her fringe back. Once side, she looked about, taking in the surroundings and noting where all of the hidden chests and drawers were before heading for the jewellery box. Finding nothing, she dropped to all fours and began rifling under the bed, soon coming across a basket filled to the brim with dog toys.

'_Strange…' _She thought, picking up one embellished with the name "Brandy." _'The house doesn't have a dog…' _Though suspicious, she left it and moved onto the wardrobe, and had just begun pawing through pyjamas and lingerie when the door opened.

"What are you doing?" Martha asked.

"Hey, Martha. What's going on?"

"I'm retaining a lot of water and I'm not sure why…wait…why you are in our room?"

"Oh, I'm just borrowing Anna's…Bra. You know how we all like to borrow each other's stuff," Joan said, thinking quickly.

"Uh…I guess so…?" Martha said unsurely as Joan glanced about, thinking of way out of the situation, her eyes falling back to the dog toy.

"Brandy!" She said.

"What?"

"If you drink more brandy, you won't retain so much water…" She lied.

"Hm…Maybe I'll try that. Thanks, Whitney."

"No problem," Joan said as she headed out in pure disbelief of the girl's stupidity. Anyone who would think alcohol was a viable way of fighting off water retention was simply…not smart. She sighed as she closed the door, stopping when an unfamiliar signal went off, making her think a moment. _'Bat Phone…_' She though, quickly checking it before rushing back to her own room, where Irene was already changing.

There were several more texts after the first one offering directions and a meeting place that required them to ride the entire metro bus line to a middle-of-nowhere bus station, where Sherlock was waiting.

"Watson, Irene," He greeted them.

"Sherlock, you made us take the entire Metro line!" Joan snapped.

"Safety precaution," He said.

"You just wanted to fuck with us."

"That too. Follow me." He said, soon leading them to a bench in a corner of the near-empty station. "Update me," He ordered.

"There's not much to say," Irene admitted. "I know we haven't been there for long, but trust me when I say I _know _dangerous people and there's _none_ in that house."

"I personally don't get it," Joan said. "If they're that concerned, why don't they just kill Anna? Why go through the trouble of planting someone in her life?"

"Because if Kastrov has Anna killed outright, her father will _definitely _testify. The only way he can gain momentum is by planting a killer and waiting. You _have _to take this seriously. The order is to find out who's not who they say they are and to uncover any information about the bargaining chip Anna may be holding."

The women simply nodded and left, heading for bed as soon as they arrived back at the house.

* * *

Unknown to them, at about two AM, someone began sneaking about the house, their steps quiet and their moves stealthy. The figure quietly slipped into Joan and Irene's room, heading straight for Irene and hovering over her, soon screaming, "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" With a clang of pans.

"Move and I shoot!" Irene snapped, her accent lost as she sat up and aimed her concealed pistol for the intruder.

Across the room, Joan quickly flicked on a lamp, revealing Jessica in a short chemise with two frying pans that immediately hit the ground once she caught site of the gun.

"What the hell, Jessica?!" Irene snapped.

"It's a PJ Party…" She explained cautiously.

"What?"

"It's a tradition," Maria said as she entered the room, having been startled by the commotion. "We wake each other up in the middle of the night and go to a frat party without showering or changing."

"So, everyone is showering and changing right now in an attempt to make it look like they did neither?" Joan concluded after glancing out the door.

"Correct," Maria nodded as she turned out of the room, feeling as if she wasn't needed any longer.

"You sleep with a gun…?" Jessica asked Irene.

"It's not real," Irene said, thinking quickly.

"Really? Let me see!" At that, Jessica wrestled it out of her hands and pointed it back at her, Irene fearing that she might do something stupid, as the gun _was_ loaded. "Your money or your laugh! I'm going to bust a cat in your ass!"

"Okay, give me that," Irene said, quickly moving to take it from her.

"It's 'cap'" Joan said as she finally stood, revealing a sky-blue nightshirt printed with a wrap-around music scale, her hair in a rather messy ponytail.

"What's a cap?" Jessica asked as Irene finally pried the pistol from her.

"The phrase is 'bust a _cap_ in your ass.'"

"Why would anyone put a cap in their ass?"

"Because, Jessica. That's what criminals do."

"That's weird," Jessica concluded as she retrieved the fallen pans.

"And putting a cat in your ass isn't weird on any level?" Joan asked as Jessica stalked out of the room.

"She's a _real_ Einstein," Irene commented.

"I am _NOT_," Jessica scoffed from the hall, making both women exchange a look.

"So, are we going to this 'PJ Party?'" Irene asked, completely un-amused with the fact of going to a party in only a dark violet chemise.

"I know it sounds like a waste of time, but we have to. Our target is going and so should we," Joan concluded, grabbing a dressing gown from a nearby chair and pulling her ponytail out once she slipped it on. "Let's go," She ordered upon choosing and slipping on a simple pair of flip-flops.

Irene grumbled, but did as she was told and followed Joan out after covering herself as well, both of them soon finding themselves in the midst of a huge, crowded party on the OAP lawn. All around them was club dancing, music, drinking and even a pool. At one point, Joan got dragged into it all, but was quickly pulled back out by Irene, and they spent most of their time navigating the crowd and observing them, both on the lookout for suspicious behaviour and stopping when they caught site of Harrison and Jessica in the crowd.

"I can't believe you would wear that here!" He snapped, eyeing her pink and white chemise. "You look like cheap tramp!"

"Harrison, you bought this for me for my birthday!" Jessica reminded him.

"No, I didn't. My father's secretary did while I was designing a car. And don't you think for a second that she's not going to get fired for making you look like a New Jersey housewife!" At that, he stormed off and Joan approached Jessica.

"Maybe he's better once you get to know him?" She said.

"Not really. He just called me a housewife."

"Jessica, you don't deserve this and you sure as hell don't have to take that!" Joan said. "He's just…"

"Wait…Did he just ask me to marry him?" Jessica suddenly said.

"What? No, Jessica, I don't think it works…that…way…" Joan trailed off as she bounced away.

"Wow…" Irene concluded.

"Tell me about it," Joan said with an eye roll as they separated, Irene heading off into the crowd while Joan climbed the steps to the house to get a better view of everything.

"Hey!" Richard called, meeting her at the top. "May I interest you in a dip in that White Trash pool over there?" He asked, gesturing towards the filter pool in the middle of the lawn.

"Already been, thanks. In fact, I think I have a disease now," She joked lightly.

"Happens to the best of us," He replied as a frat boy came up behind her and started with some kind of perverted, one-sided grind dance.

"And, if you want to go take your mind off of it…"

Joan cut him off by turning to the guy behind her. "Could you _not_ do that? Thanks," She said, noting how she was ignored as Richard continued.

"There's this great old-school Jazz club in the French Quarter. It's not really a place where students go, but I can promise you'll have fun."

Fed up, Joan simply clocked the dancing frat boy with her elbow, pushing him away before she cocked her arm up and punched him in the face, knocking him down. "Yeah, not really here to have fun, plus I hate the French." She said, leaving a stunned Richard behind.

* * *

The following day after art history, Joan stopped Irene from leaving and they turned their attention to the professor conversing with Anna. They appeared to be rather close, and were laughing casually before referring back to the textbook. Both women took notice of this as they headed out and made mental notes to mention it to Sherlock, whom they met with later that afternoon in a catholic church. They entered quietly, choosing and sitting in one of the pews in the back and waiting while he slipped in beside them.

"Anything?" Sherlock asked.

"Professor Joshua Mathers. He's only been teaching for a year and a half and has nothing on his background. He's a complete ghost," Joan said. "And, we saw him conversing with Anna after class today. To anyone else, it would look like a simple question, but they were really close and laughing."

"Is she sleeping with him?"

"I've considered that possibility."

"Sarah's lying about her past as well," Irene said.

"And how do you know this?"

"She claims to have modeled in Croatia for three years, which is smarter than saying Paris or Milan, because it's a memorable detail that will help set a lie."

"A unique qualifier," Sherlock concluded.

Irene nodded as they all stood after a nun sat in front of them. Any extra ears being dangerous to the operation. "When she told us, she cocked her head back, cut her eyes and touched her lip. All nonverbal tells of deception found in women."

Sherlock nodded as he took mental notes. "Anyone else, a boyfriend perhaps?"

"There's this guy in our art history class, Richard Davidson, but there doesn't appear to be anything romantic between them," Joan said.

"What about him?"

"Well, he's intelligent and he's older, I'd say about twenty-five, twenty-six, something about having to save up money before even considering school. His age makes him far more mature than the other frat boys, in fact, he's only in the fraternity because he's a legacy and he has this charm about him…"

"Jesus," Irene said, earning a gasp from a nun behind her. "Bless you," She covered quickly.

"What?" Joan asked.

"You're into him!"

"I am _not_! And, BTW, if anything, he's the one crushing on me."

"BTW?"

"By the way," Joan explained.

Sherlock simply listened. Though he understood many a subject and could explain everything from simple historical events to the broken glass on a crime scene floor, her had yet to figure out the complexity that was women. "Wait, crushing on _you_…What does that mean?" He asked.

"He kind of…asked me out," Joan admitted.

"Are you going to go out with him?"

"What? _No_. I'm not here to date."

"I know this, but you are here to investigate anyone that comes into Anna's life. And, I'm here to tell you that this will be my last meeting with you."

"What?" Irene asked.

"From this point foreword you'll meet with an informant from the family. He's been cleared by the NYPD and me, so we know he'll do his job. They want me back at the station to analyze his reports and balance another case. I'll get him to look into the professor. You," He pointed to Irene. "Investigate Sarah, and you," He turned to Joan. "Go out with Richard."

"I don't think going out with Richard will solve anything."

"Just do what I say. Anything else?"

"Well, I'm writing this great paper on art forgery," Irene said.

"What does that have to do with this case?"

"Nothing…I guess. But, you asked."

At that, they exchanged departure words and the women headed back to the school, where Irene ran off to finish some sort of painting, and Joan headed by the AOP house, stopping to see if Richard was there and casually walking on when she found that he was, hoping that he would notice her and not think she was creeping, even if she was.

"Whitney!" He finally called upon noticing her and waving his friends off.

"Oh, hi," Joan said casually.

"How are you? Did you enjoy the party last night?"

"Oh, yeah," Joan lied, not wanting to admit that it had disgusted her on so many levels. "I've just been so busy with school…You know sometimes I wish I could just relax and go off to some old-school jazz club or something and let loose."

"Well, there is that place I told you about in the French Quarter, but it's swarming with lazy French people."

"Perhaps they deserve a second chance."

"Tell that to Algeria," Richard joked.

Joan gave a nervous laugh. "Ha. I don't know what that means, but I'm sure it was funny," She lied, not wanting to ruin her cover as a sorority girl by seeming too intelligent again. "You know, maybe I will do that."

"If you're going to go, I hope you don't mind if I tag along."

"Your balls are amazing."

"My…balls?"

"No! What I meant to say was that would be _amazeballs_."

"Right…" Richard muttered unsurely.

"I think I have to go…" Joan said nervously as she slowly backed away.

"Are you okay, Whitney?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure. I'm _great._ I'm thebombdotcom!" She said, shaking her head in disgust for herself as she walked away.

* * *

Later that night, they headed down to the mentioned club and sat, sharing drinks while the music filled the background and Richard critiqued it.

"Greatest music ever created and no one cares," He commented.

"So, where are you from?" Joan asked.

"Listen to that. It's all about call and response." He said, ignoring the question as he glanced toward her and caught her disappointed expression. "You're not into this, are you?"

"No. I am. I was just hoping to get to know you better."

"Well, you're a bigger mystery than me."

"_Me_?"

"Yeah, you come out of nowhere with these great deductive skills and ability to break down crime scenes and the next you're this little Kappa girl who's 'thebombdotcom' and just wants to throw up."

Joan gave a small laughed and asked again, "Where are you from?"

"And that is harmony and interpretation," He said, turning back to the music.

"Is there a reason you won't answer me?" She asked.

"I'm just…into this," Richard lied.

"Are you hiding something?"

"No. You can ask me anything."

"Have you ever killed someone?"

He responded with a nervous, unsure look and she laughed.

"Kidding!" She lied.

"You've got a whacked sense of humour, Whitney."

"Love it or leave it…so…Where are you from?"

"Virginia," He responded, setting off what became a whole night of conversation and him sharing stories about his past until they had to head back to the campus.

"When I was in high school, my father continuously badgered me about getting a job, but I told him that school and baseball were my main priorities. Then, one day, he looked at me and told me he was leaving, that he met a woman, didn't love my mother anymore and that I was responsible for my mother and sisters. He said it so casually, as if he was telling me what to pick up at the store…and that's why I quit baseball. I had to get a job and…I'm sorry, I didn't plan on telling you that story I…"

"It's fine," Joan reassured.

"Well, we're at your house again," He said, looking up at the Kappa house.

"Once more around the block?"

"I've walked you home six times tonight."

"Why not make it seven? Joan insisted as she walked off.

"What about you? Are you parents together?"

"Yes, and they're well off…Even after…"

"After what?"

"Actually, you know what, I really don't want to talk about this," She said, noting his solemn expression. "Please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not. It's just…I've been opening up to you all night and you've been deflecting any and all real questions I ask."

"I just…I have trust issues. I don't have the most faith in relationships."

"Why not?"

"Because I've been there. I've seen it. People lie and they misrepresent themselves and let each other down."

"Well, I can promise you that I don't lie, I don't misrepresent myself and as far as I know, I don't let anyone down."

At that, he stepped forward, his intentions clear.

Though Joan hesitated, she ultimately stepped up and let him kiss her, softly, easily. Their kisses were soft enough to not push any boundaries, but enough to know that some feeling was there.

"You better be who you say you are," She said when they broke apart. "I'll know if you're not." At that, she headed into the house and quietly entered her room, being careful not to disturb Irene, who had gone to bed early. She sat on her bed with a dreamy sigh and let her thoughts wander until she caught a look at herself in the dressing mirror across the way and stopped, thinking it ridiculous that she was letting herself be distracted in such a way.

"Pull it together, Watson," She ordered herself, stopping at the sound of a scream from the hall. She immediately prepared for danger, grabbing her own concealed pistol and then quickly shoving it in the waistline of her jeans when Martha entered the room with a large box filled to the brim with medium-sized teddy bears wearing shirts with the college emblem.

"Look, look, look!" She said. "The teddies came in! Aren't they cute?"

On the other side of the room, Irene stirred, shielding her eyes from the hall light. "I had this terrible dream that Martha was in our room…" She said, scowling when she finally opened her eyes. "Oh, it is you." At that, she pulled the blankets over her head and Martha turned back to Joan.

"We have to sell _at least_ a hundred at the event tomorrow," She said.

"Alright," Joan said with a nod.

"Oh, and Whitney. Thank you _SO_ much for that tip. I've been drinking a lot of brandy and I feel so much better. I'm even fitting into my 'can't breathe jeans' again. It's like that awesome time I had the stomach flu. Anyways, you're the best. Talk to you later."

"_Sleeping_," Irene snapped.

"Like I care," Martha said as she closed the door behind her, getting a smile from Joan as she unloaded the gun and put it aside.


	4. Petty Drama

_**Chapter Four **_

_**Petty Drama **_

_**A/N: **__Here's another mostly-fluff chapter. Last time we had a Joan-Centric chapter, and this time, we have an Irene chapter. She even gets to play Moriarty for a moment! Also, I should probably mention that this story is short, so there are only two more chapters left. _

* * *

"Okay, team, how are we going to get people dying to buy these bears?" Sarah asked the house, all wearing green KKZ shirts, the following morning as they stood on one of the many campus lawns, grateful for the break and to let her talk, as they had spent the entirety of the morning setting up a small carnival minus the rides, but complete with food, game booths and a bounce house.

"Oh! I know!" Jessica said as she jumped up. "We can give away a can of my homemade mace as a prize!"

She was met with a chorus of "no"s and groans, after which, Sarah said, "We can think of something better…" Before walking off. "Come on girls! Let's sell some teddies!"

The crowd walked off, all but Irene, who instead approached Jessica, intrigued by her comment.

"Jessica, you make your own mace?" She inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. I'm a chemistry major," Jessica replied.

"You're a _chemistry_ major?!" Irene said, not bothering to hold back her shock. How could this girl, of all people, be a chemistry major?

"Yes, Natasha. I want to be a perfumer."

"Huh…"

"They're only upset because my last batch burned some holes in leather purses. But, I've perfected it now. Here, you can have this one." Jessica held out a silver and pink tube printed with a skull and crossbones symbol. "It has a flashlight, and a place for your keys and…"  
"Thank you, Jessica." Irene quickly snatched it out of her hands before she could make a mistake and end up doing something stupid.

"Use it wisely!" Jessica advised as Irene walked off, turning over the vial in her hands. "At least…I think that's one I perfected…" She muttered to herself, soon shaking it off and moving onto her assigned task.

Everyone worked a different station, some simply advertising the bears, others serving food and running booths, including Irene, who, after her conversation with Jessica, was forced into their kissing booth. Joan, on the other hand, was put into a teddy bear costume that included her having to wear ears with her hair pulled back into a high, fluffy ponytail and have her face done up to match.

"Buy a doll, play with balls," She encouraged from her position in front of the ball pit, only getting laughs and weird looks from the students. However, she refused to be discouraged. "Buy a doll, play with balls!" She said to a crowd of frat boys.

"Hey, didn't Lady Gaga wear that to the VMAs?" One taunted.

Joan simply cut her eyes at him, resisting the urge to thrown one of the bears in her hands at him.

"Whitney?" Richard's voice asked.

"No," Joan said.

"I recognize your voice."

"Well, aren't you just the 'Great Detective?'" She teased as he stepped towards her.

"So, let me get this straight. You are dressed as a giant teddy bear who is encouraging people to buy one of your mini-mes so that they can play in a giant, inflatable child's toy that's more of a liability nightmare than anything."

"Pretty much," She admitted with a shrug, while in the distance, Irene sat, head on her arm that was resting on the booth below her. It wasn't the fact that barely anyone was paying that bothered her, that she actually liked, as she had no interest in kissing complete strangers, it was the fact that she was bored doing so that bothered her.

She let out an aggravated sigh as a gangly, rather nerdy boy approached, his greasy hair hanging in his glassed-adorned face as he attempted to give her a sexy smile, presenting the required five-dollar bill while doing so.

Irene took one look at him and stood up straight. "No. Uh-uh, not happening. The only thing you will be kissing is my ass. You know what? I'm done! Screw the bears, I'm done!" She said, throwing her hands up in surrender as she stalked off.

"Have you sold many bears?" Richard inquired at the same moment Irene stalked off.

"No, actually," Joan said, stopping when she noticed the crowd moving past her. "Wait, where's everyone going?"

"The Alpha Lambda Alpha carwash," He replied, directing her attention to the right, where, in the nearby carpark, it was a mess of water, soap, teddy bears and the half-naked women, all wearing dark violet, cut off AɅA tank-tops, selling them in exchanged for a washed car and a show.

'_Alpha…carwash?' _She thought as she slowly moved with the crowd, soon being joined by her thoroughly disgusted sorority sisters.

"It's basically prostitution with detergent if you ask me," Sandra said, earning nods from the crowd.

"They're _so_ lucky they had bad childhoods," Martha remarked, earning a slap in the back of her head from Maria and strange looks from the rest of her sisters.

"There's no way we're going to sell of our teddies in two days with all of our clothes on," Jessica concluded, noting how the student body was flocking to the Alphas, and not because they were any good at washing cars.

"Then take them off," Irene said casually, only to be met with weird stares.

"We _have_ to come up with something," Sarah said, while, next to her, Joan titled her head, catching the eyes of a familiar looking Alpha girl.

'_Olivia!' _She thought, thinking back to how she had snuck off quietly with the 'good doctor' days ago, stopping her thoughts when she was suddenly struck with inspiration. "We're going to win the La Fete cup, I promise you."

"How?" Sandra asked.

"Just trust me," Joan said, shooting a look toward Irene as she motioned her over.  
"What?" Irene snapped, her scowl soon turning into a devious smile as Joan whispered in her ear.

Later that night, they discussed and put more development into their plan, and, the following afternoon, Irene sat in the quad with Sherlock's camera, waiting, watching.

'_Come on, don't let me down…' _She thought, muttering, "Perfect," As soon as she saw what she wanted to, pointed her zoom lens and clicked, staying until she got what she needed and then getting up and moving when her target moved, returning to the room that evening with an SD card full of pictures that she and Joan looked at, pondered over, and then finally, printed and sealed in an envelope that Irene carried with her into one of the campus' many lounges the following afternoon. For the occasion, she went to her usual, professional look, donning a solid, black dress and her navy and charcoal blazer, her hair pulled into a powerful, stylish up do.

"Doctor Carlson?" She inquired, reverting back to her normal voice as she looked over the man in question.

"Yes?" He asked, surprised when she simply sat down in front of him. "Do I know you?" He asked.

"No. But, I can promise you that you're going to want to be my friend," Irene insisted as she slid the envelope across the table.

He raised an eyebrow at it, but picked up out of curiosity and then raised the other when he saw the contents. At first, he pulled sheets of cardstock, but upon flipping them over found several pictures of himself and Olivia, some of them simply showing them being affectionate in their hidden spot in the quad, others showing them walking together, and finally shots of their time the previous day in a motel near campus.

"The waterbed one is my _favourite_," Irene said. "It really brings out your smile and would make a lovely Christmas card, don't you think?"

"What do you want?" Carlson snapped, knowing that the presentation of such pictures only warranted one thing-a favour.

Irene simply cocked an eyebrow and began to wager, noting the confused look in his eyes. Most people would have asked for money, or better grades, but what she wanted was probably the weirdest request he'd ever heard for blackmail. But, nonetheless, he agreed and, the next morning, found himself being handed a box filled to the brim with teddy bears by both Joan and Irene.

"Here you are, Dr. Carlson," Irene said sweetly.

"Thank you. Happy to help. You know how much this means to me," He said.

"The negatives are in the box," Irene whispered.

"Are we done here?" He replied.

Irene and Joan nodded and he headed off to his car as the other girls flocked to them.

"How'd you do it?" Jessica asked.

"Oh, you know," Joan said with a wave of her hand. "We just had to convince him that all the sick kids in his ward deserved a bit of cheer."

"That's _so _Christian of him," Sandra commented. "Talk about a man with a big heart."

"Yup. And he shares it with everyone," Irene muttered.

"Oh my God! I can't believe you sold all of our teddies!" Martha said, eliciting a series of cheers and claps as both women were pulled into group hugs.

Dr. Carlson glanced up at the commotion and scowled, muttering "Son of a bitch," as he shut the boot of his car, which now contained four boxes of teddy bears that he actually did plan to give away, as there wasn't much else he could do with them. But, it wasn't the idea of that that aggravated him, it was the idea that someone would go through all the trouble of threatening blackmail just to get them sold.

He wasn't the only one that was agitated, however. While everyone else was jumping and cheering for the girls, Sarah stood in the doorway with a scowl, watching for only a moment before turning and stomping off, exuding jealousy. She was the head of the house. The one that was supposed to come up with all of the good ideas and get praise, but had instead been thrown aside in favour of these new girls who had just shown up out of nowhere. Natasha, especially didn't sit right with her due to all of the looks that she gave, as if she was constantly annoyed or disgusted. She figured that she _needed _to do something about it, and had the perfect idea about just how to go about it.

* * *

"Natasha?" Sarah said as she knocked on her and Joan's door awhile later, knowing that Joan was at one of her accounting class.

Irene quickly put her paintbrush down and stood out of courtesy, soon finding herself being pulled back to her bed to sit.

"Listen, I know we've gotten off to a bad start, but I want to smooth things over. Sister dysfunction is just _so_ toxic, you know?" Sarah said.

"Um…yeah," Irene said, utterly suspicious as to what her intentions were. It was rare that she ever heard a sincere word come from the girl's mouth, and to her, everything about her was just exuded deviousness. But, she listened anyway, knowing that it was the best was to handle the situation and make her leave quicker.

"Martha says you helped her with her water problem, Jessica told me that Whitney's been defending her when Harrison gets out of hand, and, if it wasn't for you guys we _never_ would have sold all of the teddies in time. Everybody obvi loves you, hold on." At that, Sarah paused and shifted, soon pulling something from her pocket. "My bracelet. I would be honoured if you were to wear it."

"Okay…Thanks?"

"No, Natasha. Where I come from this is a _really_ big deal."

'_And where do you come from, exactly? Probably one of those gated communities full of rich, fake broads who think they're hot,' _Irene thought, holding back a smile.

This is a _bracelet _with the words 'Mother Green Earth' surrounded by real, encrusted pink moissanites."

"_Wow_…Um. Thanks Sarah, I love it," Irene lied, hiding both disgust and her still-rising suspicion.

"Are you going to put it on?"

"Oh…Of course." Irene gave a fake smile and laugh, waiting as Sarah secured the bracelet around her wrist. Though she _knew_ she was lying about something, she wasn't quite sure what, but also figured that there was no harm in the gesture.

"OMFG it is _so cute_."

"Well, you threw the 'F' in there, so it must be super cute."

Sarah simply smiled, laughed and headed out, unaware of Irene's disgusted gaze as she watched her leave and then turned to the bracelet and eyeballing it, deciding to wear it the following morning with a light-pink dress and cardigan ensemble, while Joan turned to a sweater and skirt for the day.

"Good morning Natasha, Whitney," One of the girls greeted as they swept into the kitchen.

"Morning," Joan replied for both of them with a smile.

"Good morning, Ladies," Martha said as she and Sandra approached.

"Come eat with us. We'll save your seats," Sandra insisted.

"Um…Okay. Sure," Irene replied, earning smiles before she turned her attention to the food, starting with the large fruit salad the same moment Jessica appeared and titled her head.

"Where did you get that?" She asked.

"Get what?" Irene asked.

"That bracelet."

"Sarah gave it to me."

"That's _my_ bracelet, it belonged to my mother," Jessica said, quickly grabbing Irene's wrist and turning it over. "See? Her name is right there."

"Your mum's name was Green Earth?"

"Um…Yeah."

"Was she a hippie?"

"Um, no. She was one-hundred percent Wakamasuian Indian. Do have a problem with that?"

"Why would I?" Irene snapped. "I didn't deduce such because, well, for one, you don't look Indian."

"I was adopted. Do you have a problem with _that_?"

"_What_? _NO_. Listen…" Irene said, trailing off as Sarah passed. "Sarah gave it to me."

"Sarah, can you come here, please?" Jessica asked. "Did you give Natasha this bracelet?"

"No, I don't think so," Sarah replied.

"_Excuse me_?"

"That's your mother's name, isn't it?" Sarah asked innocently.

"Alright, I see what's going on here. I knew there…"

"Oh my god, Natasha. I think we found our kleptomaniac."  
_'Like you even know what that means,' _Irene thought as Sarah ordered all of the girls to her room, and, after doing a "search" pulled a covered basket from under the bed, which contained several items ranging from small keys to expensive electronics.

"That's my iPod," Anna snapped as she pulled it from the pile.

"My Eyeliscious moisturizer," Sandra remarked, taking her item.

"My neck massager," Martha said, following.

"There's going to be a hearing on this Natasha," Sarah said, her voice dripping with smug victory. "You may be kicked out of the house."

"You have _no_ idea who you're messing with," Irene snapped with narrow eyes, noting how Sarah simply shrugged and took the basket, leaving her alone with Joan and Jessica.

"I guess Harrison was right about you, Natasha," Jessica said. "You're no sister of mine."

"Sarah set me up."

"With who?"

'_Jesus Christ! Really?!' _Irene thought, simply replying, "I didn't steal anything, Jessica."

"I don't believe you," Jessica snapped before she turned and walked out.

"You believe me, right?" Irene asked Joan, who, surprisingly, nodded.

"While I know you're technically a thief. I also know that if you were going to steal something that it would either have to mean something to you, such as artwork, or benefit you. You have no use for that junk she pulled out," Joan replied.

"You know what? It doesn't matter. This is petty teenage bullshit and I'm far better than that. I really don't need this."

"No, but you do need to make sure you get on well with everyone or else the operation will fail."

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid. I'll figure it out. I've known something was wrong with that woman from the moment I met her and I'm going to find out what it is," Irene snapped as she grabbed her bags and headed for class, staying out of the house and away from their crap until she had to return that night, coming back to a serious of glares and under-the-breath comments that irritated her. She could care less what they said, she simply thought they were acting pathetic and _hated_ petty people, always putting them first on her proverbial shit list. With an aggravated sigh, she slammed the door to her room and then headed out onto the balcony with her mobile.

"Anything?" She asked when her call was answered.

"I'm sorry, Miss Adler," Detective Bell replied. "I checked everything: the tenant system, DMV backlogs, every record-keeping database here at the station and then more. There is absolutely nothing for a Sarah Stalone."

Irene sighed again. "Are you sure?"

"If you're so concerned, why don't you look yourself? I'm sure you have the means."

"I did, but I found nothing either. I thought that a second pair of eyes with a few extra resources would help. I was wrong."  
"Why didn't you just ask Sherlock?"

"He asks too many questions. You know what, I'll just have to dig a little deeper. Thank you for checking, bye." At that, Irene hung up with a sigh. She had been hoping to find _some_ dirt on the woman, something she could use to turn the tide and shove her petty accusations in her face. Though annoyed, she shook it off and headed back into the room to attend to her workshop painting.

* * *

"I doubt that they hate her," Richard commented as he and Joan walked along a path to the library later that afternoon.

"They think she's a Klepto," Joan said.

"What's that?"

Joan sighed. "Kleptomania is a mental disorder that's characterized by the inability to refrain from stealing items for reasons other than personal gain. It's often put together with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but it's place on the OCD scale is much debated."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Is there a reason you know that? Wait, let me guess. You think mental disorders are amazeballs, right?"

"Stop," She said, lightly slapping his arm. "I'm serious. They were just starting to warm to us, and now she's become the enemy, which doesn't help _anything_. It's all just pathetic if you ask me.

"Well, you're a girl. Didn't you deal with this stuff growing up?"

"No. I spent most of my time studying and working."

"What kind of work did you do?"

"Mostly waitressing and I had a convenience store gig at one point. I had to in order to make the money I needed for school…and stuff…" She said, a silence filling in space as they stopped.

"Listen, I still don't think that they hate her. I actually find Natasha kind of intriguing," He admitted.

"Thanks…"

"_But_," He continued. "We both know I favour you."

"You're…amazing."

"Well, actually it's my balls that are amazing."

"Okay, that doesn't even make sense!"

"You said it!"

Joan sighed and laughed, stopping once she glanced at her watch. "I have to go," She said, pausing to kiss him. "Now, I have to go."

Back at the house, she focused on her ledgers while Irene alternated between drafting her paper and watching the security cameras, looking up when she noticed Sarah leaving for a run.

'_Sarah…' _She thought. _'She's leaving…perfect.' _At that, she slammed the computer shut, stood, and popped the window open.

"Where are you going?" Joan asked.

"None of your business," Irene snapped as she slipped out of the window, heading for and picking the lock of the door next to it. Once inside, she went about sneakily sieving through drawers and chests, even glancing at the bookshelf before reaching on top of it and pulling down an old high school year book that she smirked at.

'_Perfect…' _She thought as she snuck back out and headed back to her own room.

"Oh, it's you," Maria commented as she entered, having come in to assist Joan with the ledgers, as they were in the same class. "I was hoping you were a kidnapper."

"Nope. Just everyone's least favourite Kappa sister," Irene commented, thinking that she could arrange a kidnapping if Maria really wanted one.

"They have a name for you, you know," Joan commented.

"What?"

Maria nodded. "But, we won't tell if you don't want to know."

"Um…Thanks?" Irene said as she turned to the book.

"Fingers. Fingers Bedford," Maria said.

"Whatever," Irene shrugged and she smiled. "Maria, I'm not a klepto."

"What's that?"

"Something I stole from Sarah's room," Irene said as she casually paged through the book, stopping when she noticed a familiar face. "Oh, my god. Whitney, Maria, look at this." She pointed to a picture of a portly girl with stringy, brown curls.

"That's Sarah!" Joan commented.

"But, that's not her name," Irene noted, smiling once she realized she found what she was looking for. Not only did she now have some dirt to play the petty game, but some information for the investigation. Without a second thought, she quickly slammed the book shut and put in a call to Bell, heading for and waiting in Sarah's room once they hung up.

"There are just _so_ many fake girls in this house," She said when Sarah entered, her pistol in her hands. "I just hate fake people, don't you, Sarah?"

"What do you want?" Sarah asked.

"Your name is Susan Miller, not Sarah Stalone. You never modeled in Croatia, in fact you've never even set foot in Croatia. You were working at a Burger King when you got your scholarship here and forty pound heavier."

"Why do you have a gun, Natasha?"

"Because I'm here looking for someone who's not who they say they are and, well, I found _you_," Irene said as she stepped forward.

"What? Are you going to shoot me?"

"I doubt it," Irene snapped, feeling as if doing so would be a waste of her time as she clicked the safety on and stashed the gun in the waistline of her jeans. "Why the lies, Susan?"

"Because when I got into college, I had the chance to start all over. All my life, I had been on the outside. Sweet Sixteens and proms, boys. You have no idea what it's like to watch it all go by while you sit on the sidelines," Sarah explained.

"Only because I chose not to bother with it."

"Who are you?"

"Your new best friend," Irene sighed, both relieved and disappointed that this girl obviously wasn't the heart hit.

* * *

Later that evening, Irene found herself in front of a panel that included Sarah, Sandra and Jessica, sitting apart from her sisters as she was put on trial.

"Commencing the Kappa Kappa Zeta disciplinary hearing," Jessica said with a bang of her gavel. "We're here to hear Natasha Bedford's version of why she stole all of our stuff."

Sandra leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"I don't know what that word means," Jessica shot back.

"Just say it."

"Allegedly. Natasha Bedford, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Irene sighed. "Kleptomania is a disease. A disease that most of you have probably never heard of. It's characterized by the need to steal things regardless of gain, and it's something that the person can't help. It's all about Bulimia in this house and, I get that. But, why cast off the Kleptomaniac because they _also_ have a disease?" She said as she stood. "I mean, would we dump the diabetic? Or throw away the Epileptic? Last time I checked, we were supposed to be sisters. So, with that said. I ask you all to forgive and open your hearts to a sister in need." At that, she glanced at Sarah, who immediately stood.

"I stole all of the stuff and pinned it on Natasha," She admitted.

"I knew it," Maria snapped amongst a series of surprised gasps.

"You better not have used it," Martha said, soon changing her attitude upon glancing at Sarah and starting a group clap, signaling that all was forgiven before they moved onto the kitchen for cupcakes.

"Hey, Natasha," Martha said, stopping her as she carried a series of plates to the dining table. "I'm sorry I hated you and spread all those nasty rumours about you."

"_What_?" Irene snapped.

"What?" Martha said absentmindedly as she walked on, earning an eye roll from Irene, who simply moved onto the table.

"It is such a relief to finally open up. I'm so _happy_ you don't all hate me!" Sarah said.

"Well, you know. Natasha put it best. You can't hate the apocalyptic for having a seizure," Jessica commented.

"_Jessica_!" Joan said, exasperation in her voice. "It's _epileptic_."

"I know, my dog had it once."

Joan simply sighed, turning her attention away from them as Irene nudged her and drew her attention to Anna, who was sneaking out with the same frightened looked she had seen a few nights ago.

"Anna!" She called as they followed. "Anna, are you okay?"

"You wouldn't understand," Anna replied.

"Try us," Irene challenged.

"Look, I know you guys are new and trying to make friends with people other than each other, but there are problems in the real world. Problems that are far bigger than asshole boyfriends or La Fete teddies. These problems are _way_ real and a lot bigger than anything you need to solve to fit in, alright?"

"Okay," Joan said as she and Irene backed off.

"I have to go," Anna muttered, quickly climbing into her Acura and driving off.

Joan and Irene simply looked at each other, knowing something was up before Joan ran off to grab her keys and they both headed off, following Anna's SUV in their Cadillac, keeping enough distance to not look suspicious, but keeping a close eye and following all of her movements down a long, winding freeway path that eventually gave way to a shaggy, sprawling countryside and dirt roads, Anna flashing her headlights in code as they turned down the last one.

Not daring to go further, Joan simply parked the car at the base of the path, both women stepping out and opting to walk along it via the woods that lined it. They snuck about, being careful in their steps and stopping once they came to a rather large log cabin, where, Anna threw a treat to a waiting beagle before meeting up with a man.

'_Looks like we found our doggie…' _Joan thought, muttering, "Professor Mathers?" at the sight as she glanced toward Irene. Both watching as Anna and Joshua climbed the inside stairwell and eventually settled on the balcony, making a few mental notes before turning to leave.


	5. Revelations

_**Chapter Five**_

_**Revelations **_

_**A/N: **__Well…Here it is. The second to last chapter. I can only hope that I did okay in trying to make the case twisty and Sherlock-ish. As always, read and review…Or, don't, like always._

* * *

The following afternoon, once both women were free, they took to following Professor Mathers about, almost stalking him before settling in one of the many quads, pretending to study while they kept an eye on him, looking out for any suspicious behaviour, only stopping when their 'bat phones' went off.

Joan raised an eyebrow at the message and glanced around, soon catching the eye of a man who beckoned them over to him.

After taking a moment to gather their belongings, they followed him, as he _did_ match Sherlock's description. No one said a thing as they walked off, heading to the campus café before finally settling down in a booth.

"Jeff Bledstoe," He said, holding out his hand for them to shake. "I'm Carl Stratford's record keeper, and now, informant for the NYPD."

"Oh, well I…" Irene started.

"I know who you are, and took the liberty of doing some research on you. You," He pointed to Irene. "Are Irene Adler. You were recently given a plea bargain for a charge of conspiracy with the conditions that you sign on with and help the NYPD and remain under house arrest with Sherlock Holmes. You're an artist who specializes in the restoration of masterpieces and have been since you were young. When you were sixteen, you were given your first handgun and quickly became both a good shot, and a decent hand-to-hand sparring partner. You're also currently in a relationship with Holmes and spend your free time doing freelance modeling. You," He turned to Joan. "Are Joan Watson. You were a surgeon up until four years ago when you lost your licence due to the death of a patient and then never appealed it. You worked as a sober companion for awhile before being assigned to and remaining with Holmes, not as a sober companion but as his partner in detective work. You have yet to master any sort of gun, but know how to use one when it suits you. You've been trained in a few different martial arts, but are well-versed in none, though your strongest is Jujitsu. I'm an Aikido man myself…"

"Sorry," Joan scoffed.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Aikido is just a fashionable way for fat housewives to lose weight at their local Equinox."

"Are you calling me a fat housewife?"

"More or less."

"And Jujitsu isn't a dated form?"

"No. It's the most effective one there is when it comes to overcoming size."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious. With the right amount of speed and force, I could drive you through that window, right now."

"If you were behind the wheel of a _forklift_."

"This is a waste of time," Irene snapped. "Just get to the point."

"Right," Jeff said, quickly producing an envelope. "Holmes filled me in on your previous observations and it led me to this."

Irene reached for it first, opening it to find a police record with Richard's picture, however, the name didn't match up.

"No," Joan gasped, refusing to believe it. "There's _no_ way."

"His name is Alexander Peterson, and…"

"_No_. I've been trained to spot liars, and Richard _isn't_ one," Joan interrupted.

"His name is Alexander and he outplayed you, Watson. They guy did a duce down in Florida where he met up with one of Kastrov's lieutenants. If he was working for Kastrov on the inside, then obviously he's working for him now on the outside."

"This isn't right…What about the professor? Did Sherlock tell you anything about him?"

"Anna's just sleeping with him. I want you to not let this guy out of your sight," He said, leaving quickly afterwards.

"Why didn't you notice anything? There's no way he played us both!" Joan snapped at Irene.

"I don't spend as much time with him as you do. It's kind of hard to peg someone as a liar when they've never said more than ten words to you about trivial matters," Irene snapped back as she stood, leaving Joan to fuss over the file.

* * *

Despite Jeff's orders, Joan ended up not seeing Richard for the remainder of the day, but not because she was avoiding him-she simply couldn't find him.

'_He's probably hiding…' _She thought as she sat in front of one of the many bathroom vanities that night, alone for once as she absentmindedly ran a brush through her hair. _'Someone probably leaked information. Or, he's known this whole time and is planning something.'_ She scowled at the thought, resisting the urge to chuck the purple hairbrush at the mirror.

"I don't understand why you're so mad," Irene said as she stepped in. "Granted, it's a shame to know you've been used, but you can't dwell on it. It's better to just move on and silently plan vengeance. I find it much more rewarding than making ugly faces at myself."

"You don't understand. Your mind won't let you understand," Joan snapped as she finally stood and swept out of the room, being careful to not trip over the white heels that contrasted with her sky-blue, halter-top dress, chosen specifically for the party that night and matched with a pair of diamond earrings and a bracelet that had both been gifts from her mother.

'_Well then,'_ Irene thought with a scoff, her chosen outfit being a dark-red, strapless piece with a daring, sweetheart neckline with a golden chain around her neck and matching pumps.

Minutes later, they found themselves amongst a rather large crowd on the KKZ lawn. Sarah led them in some chants while shamelessly boasting their La Fete cup and giving thanks to both Irene and Joan. Halfway through Sarah's speech, Joan caught the site of Richard pulling up and then navigating the crowd. Without a second thought, she quickly followed him, being careful to keep a good distance whilst keeping a close eye on him as he headed up the stairs.

OM-double-FG , Whitney!" Sarah said, catching Joan before she hit the deck. "You and Natasha are going to make _great_ additions to the charity board next year."

"Thanks Sarah," Joan replied with a smile before they exchanged kisses.

"Love 'ya!" Sarah shouted cheerfully as Joan walked off, keeping all of her senses alert as she glanced about and turned corners, stopping at the sight of Harrison tucked into a corner with a girl that wasn't Jessica.

"Oh, shocker," She mocked as she turned on her mobile's flashlight and snapped a quick picture.

"Wait a minute!" Harrison said in fake shock. "You're not Jessica! Hold on! Come back!" He snapped the last part at Joan who simply ignored him.  
"Sent!" She announced and continued on, stopping again as she caught Anna sneaking out a back door. Immediately, her thoughts changed and she started heading after her, only to be stopped in her tracks by Richard.

"Oh, hey. There you are," He said.

She ignored him and continued walking along, following Anna's path.

"Are you okay?" Richard asked as he followed, much to Joan's chagrin.

"Yeah, sure. I'm perfectly okay."

"Okay."

She stopped, her eyes fixed on Anna's car. "Actually, I'm not." She snapped, hoping he would go away as all of her anger came to fruition. He was doing it again. Pretending to care when all he really wanted to do was manipulate her. Force her to let her guard down so he could strike. "You see what I did there? I said I was okay, but I'm not. Don't you hate that? Doesn't it just suck when people aren't who or what they say they are?"

"Whitney, I'm not really following…" Richard said as Joan again turned her attention to the Acura as Anna left and was immediately tailed by a black truck with illegally-tinted windows.

'_Shit! Why can't you just go the fuck away?' _She thought, thinking quickly for a way to distract him. "Actually you know what? I am _so_ drunk." She said in a slurred speech as she stumbled in an attempt to make it seem believable. "I'm a drunk college girl! Whoo! You know what I like to do when I'm drunk? Sex it up! What do you say? Want to sex it up?" At that, Joan grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him around the deck and in the house to her and Irene's room, where, she threw open the door and slammed him against the nearest wall.

"Okay, Whitney…this is a little weird…" Richard said as Joan pushed him up against the wall, pulling his hands behind his back as she practically ripped his jacked off, forcing him to stay still when he turned around. "It's not that I'm not interested in going there with you. I have thought about it, I just…"

Ignoring his blabbering, Joan kept him in place with her arm as she reached over and pulled open the drawer on her nightstand, pulling from it a pair of handcuffs, quickly snapping one around his wrist before pulling him across the room and forcing him down. "You know, I'm _super_ pumped to get with you this way, Richard," She said, snapping the other cuff around one of the pipes of the radiator. "I don't even think we need a safe word."

"See, this? This is deviant…but don't you think we should wait?"

"I knew you were too good to be true Alexander."

"Wait, who's Alexander?"

"Oh, very cute!" Joan snapped, pulling him by the shoulders and then slamming him against the wall. "Whatever happed to 'I don't lie? I don't misrepresent myself and as far as I know, I don't let anyone down?'"

"Okay, we might need that safe word."

Joan replied with an aggravated huff as she stood and chopped him across the neck, hitting a pressure point and knocking him out, disabling him before he could play anymore tricks. She then snatched his coat and stomped out of the room, grabbing Irene in the crowd, along with a bag of crisps before making her way to Richard's restored Honda.

"Why can't we take the Cadillac?" Irene asked.

"Couple of reasons. One, it's blocked in. Two, it would be too obvious," Joan explained as they headed off, following the same path they had before, this time driving up the entire path to the cabin and making their way up the deck, noting both Anna's car and the truck parked directly behind it.

"Good doggie," Joan said as the approached, Mathers' beagle growling at them. "Good boy…" She shook the bag of crisps, gaining his attention before throwing them at him, creating a distraction brief enough for them to slip inside, pistols and flashlights at the ready, Irene taking the ground level, while Joan carefully made her way up the spiral staircase, turning her attention to the desk on the second level. On it, sat a laptop and several documents detailing both Joan and Irene with the FBI seal on each set. On the computer was a call log from a video-chat service, identifying the user as an FBI safe house and the caller, Carl Stratford.

'_Wait a minute…'_ Joan thought, easily putting the clues together. _'Professor Mathers is FBI…Than who's our informant? And what have the NYPD been doing all this time?' _She stepped back a moment, running over everything in her head, but, before she could really put it together, she was slammed against a wall from behind, special attention being paid to the hand that held the pistol.

Hearing the commotion, Irene bolted up the stairs and rammed into Joan's attacker, distracting him long enough for Joan to gather herself and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbled, but only for a moment, making a move to grab her as Irene aimed, her concentration broken when someone else grabbed her from behind, knocking her against the banister. The other man quickly grabbed her wrist, rapping it against the rail to the point of almost breaking it before she finally loosened up and dropped the pistol. Thinking quickly, she shined her light in his face, blinding him as she kicked him away and headed for the first man, who was locked in a strong hand-to-hand fight with Joan, her besting his every move until he managed to find a loophole and simply wrapped his hands around her neck, disabling her before grabbing her by the shoulders and throwing her to the ground, the other doing the same to Irene as she made a grab for one of the two guns on the floor, throwing her directly into her partner as both men grabbed a gun and pointed. The first stopping and nudging his partner after a delayed glance before they both slowly headed down the stairwell.

"Wait…why didn't he kill us?" Joan thought aloud as she and Irene looked each other over. _'Wait a minute…' _She thought as they both started going over the recent events in their heads-Sherlock's words, the initial order for family protection, their meetings with someone not from the station, the idea that Richard could be, in any way, attached to the case. It only led to one conclusion.

'_We've all been played…' _Irene thought as they quickly jumped up and headed out the door, noting the departing truck and a strangled groan coming from the nearby forest. At first, they thought it was simply a body, but upon a closer look found a very much alive but injured Professor Mathers, whom they quickly sat up and leveled against a tree.

"Professor Mathers…You're going to be fine," Joan assured, noting the blood near his chest and quickly taking her hands to her dress, ripping part of the hem before forcing his hand aside and applying the necessary pressure to the wound.

"Whitney? Natasha?" He groaned.

"It's Joan and Irene. You're FBI…What happened to you?" She asked as Irene dialed emergency services and gave the necessary details.

"I'm…shot…"

"An ambulance is on its way," Irene confirmed as she hung up.

"You're not with Kastrov, are you?"

"No. Not intentionally. They swindled the police, claiming to be representatives for Stratford that were cleared by the FBI. We're just consulting detectives from New York City. Where's Anna?" Joan said.

"He took her," Mathers replied.

"Why? Why did they take Anna?" Irene asked.

"Legers."

"What ledgers?"

"Accounting…ledgers Carl had kept…Kastrov's books."  
"A bargaining chip…" Joan muttered.

"She wouldn't tell anyone where they were. Not even me."

'_A bargaining chip…'_ Irene thought, thinking back to her encounters with Anna, and soon realising exactly what they meant by chip and where it was, her thoughts only being interrupted by the Bat Phones going off. _'That's what they wanted…The ledgers…'_ She thought as sirens went off in the distance, soon getting closer.

Ignoring the message for a while, she and Joan stayed to communicate with the EMTs and give details about Mathers state, the wound he'd been given and how Joan had temporarily treated it before heading off again, this time to a meeting with Jeff.

He met them at a remote coffee stand expecting to hear some sort of report, but instead got two women who exuded both anger and confidence as they approached him in a huff.

"The killer could be anybody…" Joan started.

"Joan, Irene…" Jeff said, trepidation and warning in his voice.

"Someone who's not who they say they are."

"What are you doing?"

"Somebody who gets close to Anna."

"You're only making this worse," He said as the ladies took seats across from him.

"_Us_. We were the killers the whole time," Irene finally said.

"Bravo. And you both pack a mean punch."

"And now we know why you didn't kill us. It's just oh, so convenient for us to take the fall for you."

"Very good. See, you girls did learn something in college."

"You swindled the NYPD into believing you and your own were Carl Stratford and his representatives because going directly through law enforcement would give you a perfect cover. Everything would be done officially under the guise of NYPD business and arouse little to no suspicion with the Federal government. And, keeping the police on your side also knocked them out as an obstacle," Joan said, having gathered all of the details in little time, both due to her training and then Jeff's own slipup by not killing her.

"You then asked for Holmes so you could keep him distracted. Because you knew that if he was left to his own devices, that he would eventually realise that something was wrong with his partners," Irene continued. "But, you underestimated him. And, as soon as you realised that you messed up and he was finding loopholes, you had him pulled from the field and stuck back at the precinct to handle only written reports and used him as a mere messenger. However, that only roused more suspicion to the point where you pulled him completely."

"With Sherlock out of the way, all you had to do was deal with us. Forget the police, because they only had a minor part anyway, thinking it was all legitimate because they were only getting paperwork. And you swindled us by, again, going through the police and then giving information about us that no one else would know. Then, you pegged Richard as the bad guy to distract me, knowing that if I thought the guy I was interested in was playing me, that I'd be hurt and turn my focus onto him. Leaving you free to do as you please."  
"But, you miscalculated. And, the only reason you and your buddy didn't kill us was so that we-and, in conjunction the NYPD-could take the fall for you, making them look corrupt and putting focus on them rather than your underground plans."

"You're too quick for me ladies," Jeff said, leaning back in his chair.

"You know, if there's one thing I hate, it's being used," Irene snapped.

"So what are you going to do about it?" He challenged.

"Nothing. If you give us Anna Stratford."

"And why would I do that?"

"The ledgers. We found them," Joan admitted. "Give us Anna and we'll give you the ledgers."

"I'll give you fifty thousand for 'em."  
"_No_," Joan insisted. "We were put on this case to protect Anna Stratford, and that's exactly what we're going to do."

"Oh, come on. What are you doing? You're going to protect some sorority bitch?"

"You know, you really got us. But, the deception stops now," Joan snapped as she stood, slamming her Kappa phone down on the table. "Answer the phone when it rings. If you don't or you're followed, the ledgers go directly to the NYPD, and from there, the FBI, got it?"

"Um…Sure?"

"Oh, and that 'sorority bitch' is our Kappa sister!"

At that, both women simply turned and left, not returning to the campus until the following morning, where, in the house, two agents were questioning Sarah and Martha as they stood on the main stairwell.

"What time did Whitney and Natasha leave the house?" The man asked.

"I don't know, I am not my sister's keeper," Sarah snapped.

"What time do you anticipate her return?" The woman inquired.

Martha made a move to answer, stopping when the back door opened and both Irene and Joan slipped quietly inside.

"Joan Watson, Irene Adler. FBI," The man said as he stepped up.

"Joan Watson?" Sarah asked.

"Irene Adler?" Martha continued as they were led into the dining room and forced to sit and explain their story as the agents revealed themselves, the man, Rupert Sanderson, the woman, Nadia Phillips.

"Agent Arnolds is very weak, but did inform us that you have been helpful," Sanderson said.

"We checked, and there's no one in the Kastrov organization named Jeff Bledstoe," Philips informed them.

"Then obviously he used a fake name with us and the police. Even going as far as to set up a complete persona that he used to pass their background checks," Irene said.

"We'll figure all of that out eventually. It's what we do. So, thank for your help ladies, but we can take over from here."

"_No_," Joan snapped as they stood, following the agents as they headed for the door. "Absolutely not. We started this job and intend to finish it."

"Miss Watson, with all due respect, we're the FBI and you're a consulting detective from the City who specializes in murder mysteries."

"Ms. Phillips do you have Anna Stratford? And, with all due respect, do you have the ledgers? No."

"He brought us here to find out who the mole was to lead him to the ledgers and for us to take the fall," Irene said. "And he did it through law enforcement to cancel out any suspicion, and tie it all back to them to create controversy and keep the feds distracted while he and Kastrov carried out more plans. He thinks he's gotten two out of three. He thinks Agent Arnolds is dead and that we'll take the fall for it. But he doesn't have the ledgers. Nobody does."

"Do you?" Phillips questioned.

"No. But, we know where they are."

"He's waiting for us to call him to deliver them. Now, we can hand them over to you, but he's smart. He'll throw us a curve and we have to be prepared for that," Joan interrupted.

"Why don't you let us worry about that?" Sanderson asked.

"I'm serious. If there's one thing all of my training with Sherlock has taught me, it's _always_ have a contingency."

At that both agents stopped, realising that it might be worth something to listen to them, which they did, making a temporary plan before heading out and leaving Joan and Irene on the deck with a group of curious Kappa girls.

"Whitney, Natasha, what is going on?" Martha asked.

"What's platinum rule number one in the Kappa Chapter Book?" Joan asked.

"Never wear sweatpants," Sandra replied in an obvious tone.

"Rule number two?" Irene asked with as sigh.

"A sister in need comes before anything else," Sarah said.

"Girls, we have a sister in need."


	6. SOS

_**Chapter Six **_

_**S.O.S. (Save Our Sister)**_

_**A/N: **__Well…Here's the last chapter. Thank you to the few of you that reviewed, and even to all my quite readers. Hope you enjoyed this small, cute little tale…Because I'm just going to assume you did…_

The following morning, everyone in the Kappa house was up early. They gathered in the chapter room first thing, waiting as Irene and Joan explained their plan and everyone's parts in it before the FBI came for them with their own plan, taking Joan across campus to a nearby classroom above the quad where she had scheduled a meeting with Jeff.

"Joan," Phillips started as Joan pulled a wire through her pink, lace-trimmed camisole, securing the microphone in the black shrug she wore over it. "The second he grabs the ledgers, you need to get on the ground, quickly."

"Maria and I will get these back, right? They're due tomorrow," Joan said, taking the binders she held out.

"Look, it doesn't even matter that these aren't the real ledgers."

"I know. Once he has them in hand, we can peg him on obstruction of justice and conspiracy."

"Exactly. From there, we'll deal with him to give up Anna," Sanderson said, soon joining Phillips at the window and dismissing Joan into the courtyard, which was overcrowded with students due to the "Greek Week" event advertising and pulling in new members for various sororities and fraternities. She looked around, watching everyone with caution as she scanned the crowd for any sign of Jeff, feeling only a tad safer when she noted the FBI lookouts keeping a close eye on her.

"Joan," Jeff called moments later. "You look _great_."

"Cut the flatteries. Where's Anna?"

"Anna who?"

"_What_ are you doing?" Joan hissed, pushing the ledgers at him. "_Here_."

"I don't want those," Jeff shrugged as he pulled out his mobile. "Excuse me, I actually have to take this call," At that, he hit a button on the phone, letting out a high-frequency signal that not only stung the ears of everyone wearing wires, but disabled them as well.

"_Ow_!" Joan snapped.

"That was a low-porto frequency jammer," Jeff explained, as he stepped closer, and grabbed her arm, soon revealing a concealed pistol that he kept pointed at Joan's side, hidden by the cover of the books. "I used to be a Fed, can you believe that?"

'_I can, actually,' _She thought as he pulled her along, the agents looking about furiously, all trying to get an eye on Jeff as he practically dragged Joan across the quad.

"Now that I think about it, they actually did teach us how to detect lies."

"And obviously how to tell them," Joan snapped.

"Toats." He quickly led her behind a bounce house, stopping between it and a tree that gave decent coverage. "I have to give it to you, Watson. You sure know how to play the game," He said as he put the gun away and quickly snatched the ledgers, flipping through them with haste. "What are these?"

"The ledgers."

"Kastrov never dealt in widgets…Where are the real ledgers?"

"I don't know. That's all I have!"

"_Where are they_?" He snapped, grabbing her and pointing the gun again.

"I don't know. That's all I have," Joan insisted as he tightened his grip and again, dragged her along.

"Forget it. Come on. I'll take care of all three of you at the same time."

They got no further than three feet when Jessica approached with a smile.

"Hey, Whitney!" She said. "I found those journal-thingies you were looking for."

"Jessica, not now," Joan snapped, aggravation in her voice.

"Of course not now. Like eight minutes ago, silly. Who's this?" She said, eyeing Jeff, who quickly moved to put his arm around Joan.

"Whitney's brother," He said, quickly. "Sissy, why don't you introduce me to your friend here?"

"Um…Sure. This is Jessica."

"You came all the way from Hawaii?" Jessica asked, ignoring the fact that they looked nothing alike.

"Of course I did. I'd go anywhere for my little sister. So, where are the journal-thingies you were talking about?"

"Are you okay, Whitney?" Jessica asked, ignoring him as she noted Joan's shifting eyes. "You're looking at me all weird like I'm being insipid or something…"

"Where are the…the journal thingies that you were talking about Jennifer?"

"It's Jessica."

"Whatever."

"They're in the chapter room."

"Thank you so much, nice meeting you."

"You too!" Jessica said cheerfully as Jeff resumed pulling Joan along, keeping his grip tight and his pistol to her side as he dragged her through the remainder of the quad to his Expedition, which was parked alongside one of the many buildings near the carpark. Once there, he threw the passenger door open and shoved Joan in towards the driver's seat, pushing harder when she stopped to glance at Anna, who was bound and gagged in the back seat.

"Don't worry about her, she's a little sedated," He ordered, handing over the keys as Joan reached a hand up, making it look like she was simply pushing her hair away from her ear as she slipped in a communication piece.

"I need you to take me to the chapter room."

Joan said nothing and simply started the car, driving off on his orders and passing, but taking no notice of the uncover van outside the Kappa house. Inside, Sherlock and Gregson watched several security cameras that covered the inside and outside of the house, watching and listening carefully to both Joan and Jeff.

"Alright, Joan. Everything is going according to plan. Stratford's daughter will be fine as long as you stay calm," Gregson said over the line as she pulled into the house's driveway, staying in place as Jeff got out first and then pulled her out and yanked the keys out of her hand, hitting the lock button on the fob before pulling her along.

"This car is rigged," He informed her. "If anyone tries to get to Anna, I hid the trigger on this phone and the car _explodes_. Got it?"

"There's a bomb under the car. The keys are in his left jacket pocket, go _now_," Sherlock ordered, prompting the Kappa girls on the steps to head down, Sarah ramming into Jeff along the way with a snobbish "excuse me" as she bumped his shoulder, while, at the same moment, Richard pulled up and quickly scrambled out of his car.

"Whitney! We need to talk!" He called.

"Oh, shit," Joan muttered as he ran across the lawn and up the stairs.

"Who the hell is this?" He said of Jeff.

"Wait, who the hell is _this_?" Sherlock asked over the line.

"Some guy I'm dating," Joan said to Sherlock, forgetting that everyone else could hear her.

"You're dating _this_ guy?" Richard snapped.

"Wait a minute, you're dating someone?" Gregson said in disbelief.

"No, not _this_ guy," She said to Richard. "_Really_?"

"What the hell is going on?!" Richard snapped.

"Hold on, is he a _student_?" Gregson asked.

" I really can't talk about this right now!" Joan said to everybody.

"Why not?!" Richard asked.

"Since when do you have time to date someone?" Sherlock asked. Granted, he had urged her to go out with him, but he doubted anything would come of it but some simple research. Never once did he think Joan was the type to get distracted in such a way in the middle of a case.

"Where's the chapter room, Joan?!" Snapped a thoroughly annoyed Jeff.

"Who the hell is Joan?" Richard snapped as he jumped in front of them. "Hold on a second. You handcuff me to a radiator, then you knock me out and steal my car. What the hell was that?"

"It was nothing personal!" Joan insisted.

"Nothing personal? You led me on. You tricked me into liking you then you beat me down?"

"It's not what…" Joan stopped and quickly turned around, dragging Jeff with her. "Wait, you like me?" She smiled.

"_Focus_, Watson!" Sherlock snapped. "When this is all over, I'd like a proper introduction."

"Who are you? My mother?" She snapped at him.

"What?" Richard asked.

"Where the hell is the chapter room?!" Jeff practically shouted.

"It's right there!" Richard snapped, thoroughly annoyed with that question and the whole situation as he pointed across the hall.

"Come on!" Jeff snapped, throwing open the door and pushing Joan away.

"Where are the ledgers? Huh?" He questioned as Irene stepped out from her hiding place in the corner and went at him with Jessica's mace, which, unfortunately did nothing. There was no sting at all, just a cloud of a perfume-y smelling substance.

"What the hell is that?" Jeff asked.

"_Mace_," Irene insisted, spraying it again in disbelief.

"No it's not!" He said, as he shoved Joan, who was coming at him from the side, into a nearby table and pushed passed Irene, setting Richard off.

"No! Richard!" Joan said as he went for Jeff himself.

"Hey, what's your problem man?" He snapped as he set a hand on Jeff's shoulder, only to have his arm pulled forcefully behind his back before being kicked to the ground. However, before he could do anything more, Irene stepped in and started a hand-to-hand fight with Jeff. Ducking at every punch he threw, before seizing an opportunity and pulling his arm behind his back, disabling him by twisting it until he garnered up enough strength to shove her off and into another table as Joan came at him from the side, throwing him through the window and onto the deck, holding him down as she grabbed and loaded his fallen pistol, soon being joined by Irene, who had hidden hers in her belt.

"Bravo, Ladies," Jeff said, not showing any hint of fear at the fact he was being stared down by two women holding guns, both aimed at his heart. "But, you know that all I have to do is press nine on this thing and that car blows up," He said, holding up his mobile and gesturing toward the truck with it.

"You're lying," Irene snapped.

"Am I? Because we both know how easy it is to make a cocktail out of nitrocellulose and keytone, slide it under the backseat. You recognize this phone, don't you ladies? It's been rigged with a discontinued sixty-three hundred vibrator that can send a signal. Give me the guns," He ordered, repeating it in a harsher tone when neither woman complied.

Finally, both women stopped, unloaded their pistols and gave them up, Irene throwing hers to the deck and Joan returning Jeff's, which he immediately clicked on and pointed at her.

"You still want to see if I'm bluffing, don't you?"

"No," Joan shook her head, answering for both of them.

"Here we go." At that, he hit the button and Joan and Irene hit the deck, knowing it was safer to stay down as the Expedition became engulfed in flames and Jeff smiled smugly, cocking and pointing the gun with the intention to shoot, stopping when he felt the barrel of another hit his head.

"I don't think so," Sherlock said coolly.

"Who's that?"

"I'm the contingency." At that, Sherlock snatched Jeff's gun and handed it over to Joan, who aimed while Irene quickly grabbed hers from the deck, not getting a chance to aim before Jeff collapsed on the deck.

"You're in big trouble, Bledstoe," Joan said, pulling the safety as she spoke. "There's no boys allowed in the chapter room."

As soon as she finished speaking, the Kappa girls, including Anna stepped up to see what was happening.

"Anna!" Joan exclaimed, rushing to hug her when she realised that the plan had worked perfectly.

"Hey, _Joan_," Anna said with a laugh.

"Oh my god, how did you?"

"You know, Sarah," Anna replied as Sarah held up the car keys, which she had swiped from Jeff upon bumping into him.

"It's a disease," She said.

"Good going Klepto," Irene complimented.

"How'd I do?" Jessica asked.

"You did great, Jessica," Irene admitted, stopping to glance back at Jeff, who spoke only of nonsense, complaining about rootbeer and ordering Sherlock to do unnecessary pushups. She rolled her eyes at the site and turned back to the girls. "The police will be here soon. Why don't you go watch them?" She suggested as Anna lingered.

"We need the ledgers now, Anna," Joan said calmly.

"Yeah," Anna nodded as Irene stepped forward and popped open her locket, which held an SD card with an electronic ledger file, her having deduced its location after remembering how protective she had been of the necklace.

"I want to go to candy mountain…and ride on the tears of unicorns…" Jeff said, as the remaining girls raised their eyebrows.

"Maybe I put too much fungus in the mace…" Jessica admitted as Jeff babbled on. "Or maybe I shouldn't have put any in the mace," She said as the police arrived and carefully apprehended Jeff while the FBI asked questions and the fire department took care of the car.

"You know, you could turn that into a play area. With the right tools and some more sturdy metal work of course," Sherlock said as he approached Joan and Irene.

"I missed you," Joan admitted.

"I have to admit, I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too."

"You're the apprentice, I'm the teacher. Let me be proud first," He said as he allowed her to give him a brief hug and, Irene a kiss before Sanderson and Phillips appeared.

"Good work Watson, Adler," Sanderson said. "The FBI could use people like you."

"Thank you, but our place is with Sherlock and the NYPD," Joan replied.

Surprisingly, Irene nodded in agreement as she presented them with the SD card. "The ledgers." She said.

"The ledgers?" Sanderson asked for conformation, earning nods in response before leaving as Richard approached.

"Whitney?" He asked.

"Actually it's Joan…Joan Watson. Consulting detective for the NYPD," Joan admitted, turning to Sherlock. "This is Sherlock Holmes, my partner, former heroin addict, and roommate and this is Irene Adler, ex-con, Sherlock's girlfriend and sometimes fuck buddy," She explained. "Sherlock, this is Richard. Irene is already acquainted with him."

"Nice to meet you, Sir," Richard said as they shook hands.

"Who hit you?" Sherlock asked, noting the bruise on his neck that was far too elongated and straight to be any sort of love bite.

There was a brief silence before Joan raised her hand and Richard admitted, "Your…Partner?"

"Hmm…Didn't know you had it in you, Watson."

"I do. And…I'm just going to leave you guys alone to talk and…whatever," Joan said, grabbing Irene's hand as they headed off.

"Hey Natasha! Whitney!" Jessica called.

"It's Irene and Joan," Sandra informed her.

"I mean, Irene! Joan! Come over here! Wait, her name is Joan?"

The same moment she spoke, Sherlock stepped closer to Richard, pulling a paperclip from his jean pocket.

"I can kill you ten different ways with just this paperclip. Think about that before you do anything remotely hurtful," He said, earning a strange look in response as the ladies joined with the Kappa girls, all of them with their arms around each other as they headed up the steps.

"I am _so _proud of you guys," Joan admitted.

"OMG we are _so _badass," Sarah said, earning laughs in response.

"I'm really happy you're my sorority sisters," Anna said.

"Us too," Irene admitted.

"I hear some of those easy Alpha girls have infiltrated the sorority council," Sarah said.

"How do we know who they are?" Sandra asked.

"Easy, you go undercover," Joan said with a laugh as they headed up the stairs.

"Wait, are we in the FBI now?" Jessica asked. "Do we get a gun? Can I have a pink gun?"  
"Jessica! I doesn't work…you know what? Never mind," Irene said with a sigh.

_**Two Months Later **_

After the whole commotion with the police and the school were cleared up and Joan and Irene were made honorary members of the KKZ house, weeks later, Joan stood, hidden amongst several trees with her camera, snapping pictures at the site of a man conversing with another woman and doing well until someone grabbed her from behind, getting an uncharacteristic squeal in response.

"_Why_ did you do that?" She said upon turing around and facing Richard.

"Hey You, what are you doing here?" He asked casually.

"Oh, Jessica's dating this new guy and asked me if I could check him out for her, so I told her I would. Sisters stick together after all, even if one of them belongs in a precinct in the City."

"Ah, yes. So, what's up with _this_ guy?"

"So far, so good. He's getting a PhD in quantum physics, so they'll you know, be on the same level intellectually."

"Well, that's nice of you to do that for her. Because, you know, sometimes people often aren't who or what they say they are. You know, they lie, Joan Watson, let each other down."

"How long are you going to peg that on me?" Joan asked.

"I don't know. A couple of years…Five…Maybe ten," Richard shrugged.  
"_Ten years_?" Joan laughed.

"You're the detective, you figure it out," He said, approaching and leaning in for a kiss, stopping after the first. "This is in the way." He quickly pulled the camera from around her neck and placed it over his shoulder, not wasting a moment before slipping a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him as he pressed his lips to hers again, softly at first and then harder as she pressed for it, wrapping her arms around his neck while his rested on her waist.

"_Watson_!" Sherlock snapped in the distance. "The case isn't going to solve itself! As your affair grows ever hotter, the case grows colder."

Joan sighed and rolled her eyes as she backed away. "Sorry about that. We were actually on our way to meet a witness."

"Well, don't let me stop you."

"I won't," Joan smiled as she walked off, leaving him with another kiss before climbing into her old car, having had to unwillingly give the Cadillac back up to the dealership, and taking off with her partners. Her work took her all over the place, sent her on rollercoasters of mental and emotional strain, but, through it all, she smiled, knowing that while things were forever going to be far from perfect, that maybe, just maybe, she would enjoy something working out in her favour-even if Sherlock and Irene gave her a hard time about it. There would always be the questions, the jokes about the late-night phone calls, the dates, the fact that he was younger than her, but that was just _them_, and she rolled her eyes at the thought before focusing completely on the assignment, as it was another day and another case that needed solving, which, as Sherlock told her, could not simply be done by itself.


End file.
